
Class _1__^J 

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Recitations and 
Dialopcs 



ti -« 



By mr$. 0. Uf. eriffin 




"^ OopyrigM, 
Applied for, 

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AUG 21 lyUi) 

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/ A95 77 



75 35-13 



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The river of time flows toward eter- 
nity's gulf, 

The current bears thouglitless liumau- 
ity away. 

None can improve the lost oppor- 
tunity, 

That lies in the relm of yesterday. 

While searching for the source of 
this mystical river, 

Toward the mouth we unprecepitably 
trace, 

And equally with those, lost are all 
efforts, • 

Who searcli for the margin at the 
beginning of space. 



1^ 



CORRECTION. 



The publication of this book was not 
undertaken with the expectation that it 
would fill any especial place in the realm 
of literature. 

Financial circumstances do not permit 
reprinting, and I trust the readers will 
kindly overlook all orthographical and 
typographical errors for which the author 
is not responsible. Cherishing the hope 
of a second undertaking, and as a means 
of furthering that attempt, this book is 
placed upon the market. 




ROOSEVELT 

In Oregon City 



The President in Oregon City. 

From under neatli tlie Llended line, 

Of red, white and blue, 

The engne of glossy black was seen, 

Decorated with cedar green. 

The station rang with applauses loud, 

And from the hill the gatliering crowd, 

In anxios wonder beheld the train, 

For him thej sought but not in vain. 

One car o'er the rest superior rose. 

By displaying his features his por- 

trate shews. 
Silence o'er the multitude crept, 
And Roosevelt on the platform stepped. 
In fullness each eye absorbed the light, 
Where a Nation's president stood in 

sight, 
Eager ears were bent with fear, 
Least his accents they might not hear. 
A congratulation for the fertile land. 
Nature's bounties on every hand, 
The future's hopeful prospects view, 
With an increased crop of children too. 
Not only the quantity in demand. 
But the quality that is on hand. 
Encouraging the prosperity of the 

Nation, 
Under the present form of adminis- 
tration. 
He expressed regrets at not being able 

to stand, 
And grasp each citizen by the hand. 
The train pulled forth and left the 

crowd. 
Who cheered their chief both long and 

loud. 

3 



Baby OlUe. 

The golden ray of sunlight, 

The little bndded rose, 
Are emblems of the spirit land. 

Where bliss and love o're flows. 

A cloudy day, a blighted flower, 

Not e'en the song of birds, 
A blasted hope, a broken heart, 

Aie griefs untold by w'ords. 

Little OUie's Angle face. 
Has left this world of care, 

The sorrows which we daily know. 
Are not for her to share. 

When nature yields to pain and toil. 
Temptations arise on every hand, 

Far from the evil tempters grasp. 
She's landed safe in Bulah land. 

Some hearts w^ho trust in human power 
And scoff at Christ's endeavor, 

Are crushed by presure from above. 
With God's hand on the lever. 

Let others weep who see their blood. 

Rebelling at his throne. 
Without a hope to reach the world. 

Where parting is never known. 

Pure and holy was the pet, 
The prize from God was given. 

Just long enough to win the heart, 
And woe the soul to heaven. 

Waxen work of the finest mould, 
The sculpture's chizel on the rock. 

Could ne'er surpass the perfect gem, 
Under the sod in a wooden box. 



Johnies' First Cigarette. 

When Raleigh sat in his chamber to 

smoke, 
His servant failing to see the joke, 
Down the stairs ran the faster 
After dousing water on his master, 
Shouting fire at the top of his voice. 
Galling for help as was his choice. 

But his experence was not as severe. 
As that of our little school boy here, 
Whose angry mother takes it in hand, 
Her wayward son to repremand. 
This knowledge gained has saved 

many a penny, 
To know that one cigarette was one to 

many, 
Johnie to manhood was rapidly grow- 
ing, 
Considered in school as quite accurate 

in knowing, 
The day finally came when his senses 

awoke. 
To be completely accomplished he 

must learn to smoke. 
*'My companions will call me both 

stupid and soft. 
If am not bound to a habit I cannot 

brake off." 

The one thing lacking he now began, 
With cigarette in mouth and match 

in hand. 
He gave several puffs then turned to 

the glass, 
As the smoke rolled out in a mass. 
The door opened qickly, his mother, 

O dear ! 



And rightly he had a cause for some 

fear. 
My son, if you want to smoke, slie 

said, 
I'll make a chimney in the top of your 

head. 
I'll lay the first brick there myself. 
And taking something from off the 

Fhelf, 
Every thing for a moment looked very 

dull, 
Truly he thought she had broken his 

skull. 
Through life Johnie was blessed with 

wonderous health, 
A man of great wisdom 'and increas- 
ing wealth. 
Happy, contented, respected afar. 
And boasts of having never smoked a 

cigar. 
And as he grows older, you will often 

hear him say. 
Thanks to the uncompleted chimney 

started that day. 



True Wealth. 

Along the dark and upward road. 

As we travel toward the goal. 
Priceless treasures each may have, 

Though forsaken, poor aad old. 
Compassion is a little thing. 

And yet it is so great. 
As to heal the wounded heart. 

And happiness therein create. 
Many are those who fail to know 

And some though rich and old, 

6 



Tliat loving words will melt the stone 
That is crushing out the soul. 

A pleasant smile is very '^lieap, 

But tlie bliss it brings 
Is more than gold unto the soul, 

Loaded down with sorrow's scings. 
There never was one in poverty, 

Who forever must remain, 
Bereft of all the priceless gifts, 

That Providence did ordain. 

He with his store of bullion, 

Is not near so rich a man, 
As he with loving heart 

And gentle words at his command 

Then never plead of poverty. 

For 'tis our lot alone; 
To be the richest one on earth, 

Or tlie poorest e'er known. 



Prank Players Take Warning 

Cliildren are often up to tricks, 

And the pleasure they gain 
Sometimes causes another. 

To bear useless pain. 
Little pranks that are played 

Untold harm has done. 
By friglitening another party. 

Just for innocent fun. 

I relate this story 

To demonstrate the truth, 
It happened at my home. 

When I was « youth. 
My brother and I were at different 
schools, 



He'd bet'ii gone three months or 
more. 
That Friday night 1 went home 
As often had done before. 

The chilly winds were blowing, 

And the moon w^as shining briglit, 
Wlien I greeted my parents, 

On that clear cold night. 
We enjoyed the social chat. 

Until the sleepy eyes of some, 
Informed us that the hour. 

Of bedtime had come. 

Reveling in peacefal sleep 

In my brother's room. 
Unconcious that midnight's hour 

Would seal my fatal doom. 
From sweet slumber I was awakened 

By a sound at the window shutter 
All alone in the front upstairs. 

Not a single sound dared I utter. 

O'er the bay window I distinctly saw 

The shaddowT form of a man, 
And through my active frightened 
brain. 

Ghostly visions ran. 
I saw^ him enter the open window, 

And draw^ the curtains apart. 
Every effort was baffled, 

To still my throbbing heart. 
He slolly advanced toward the spot 

Where I was trembling with fright. 
In the solitary chamber 

On a fearful winter night. 
If a noise I had dared to make, 

No one would come to my relief 
I would surely be the victim, 
8 



Of a murderer or a theif. 
I longed for a defensive weapon, 

But all to no effect, 
There were jewels in the room, 

Which was my duty to protect. 
He steathly approached the bed 

Where I was feigning sleep, 
But dreaming of my parent's fate. 

Who were plunged in slumber deep. 
He paused, I thought to drug me. 

Bat in compliance with my prayers, 
He retreated through the door. 

And began to desend the stairs. 
No sconer had he left the room, 

Than I cleared he window with a 
bound, 
Aud the ladder upon which he climbed 

I lowered to the ground. 
Endeavoring to deter his pursuit, 

But was a foolish scheme, 
That he cold leap as well as I, 

I did not even dream. 
Clad in night attire 

Where the chilly winds did blow, 
I never felt tlie stinging cold 

With bare feet in the snov/. 
I didn't stop to think of weather. 

Nor with my appearance did bother, 
There were robbers in the house, 

I called unto my father. 
He believed it was a vision, 

But responded to the call 
Just in time to realize 

That theves were in the hall. 
He came down the kitchen stairs. 

And then crossing the floor ^ 
Just as he seized a sturdy chair. 

Before him opened the door. 



I liearcl a crasli, tliero was no iight^ 

All I could see was black. 
"O father !'" came the terrific cry, 

Then I knew my brother wa.s back. 
He intending to surprise us 

When the morning came. 
Approached his room through thc- 
window^ 

But it proved a dangerous gam.ey 
He would have met iiis fate 

Had he been an incli nigher. 
By the tremendous blow 

From our venerable sire. 

A promineont gash several inches long. 

The door case adorning, 
In my father's house remains 

To prank players a warning. 
He will remember the experience 

And not repeat the game 
Although our parents think 

My brother was not to blame. 
Often tricks are played 

And no harm is done 
But at the very best 

It is an extravagent fun. 

Is Life a Dream. 

The mother placed the flow^ers 

On the grave of her only son 
And bitterly wept as she said : 

•'May God's will be done." 
My treasure is taken away 

And why am I left alive, 
There is nothing on earth 

Now for which to strive. 
She tliought of the Holy Bible, 

The crucifix was seen, 
10 



And in "her anguish she spid, 

"Oh, life is only a dream," 
The father nnd husband stood 

By the grave of his child and wife. 
And counted his toilsome efforts, 

He had made in his earthly strife. 
How few were the moments of pleasure 

And many the hours of imin. 
All through life he had experieiiced, 

V7iiile striving a fortune to gain, 
Fate constantly waxe--^ and waned 

With the ocian's tide it did seem. 
And he tearfully said, 

"My life has been only a dream."" 
The grandfather lent on his cane, 

For a moment stood facing the truth 
He counted the cost of living, 

To an old age from youth. 
Through many a nolJe battle, 

He had boldly carried his cross, 
And after casting their sum 

He counted them ail as dross. 
And his aged eyes with water 

For a moment did gleam, 
Wliile he muttered these words, 

"Yes, life is only a dream." 
The Wallstreet miser counted his geld 

And listened to its musical chime, 
Said he, "The rewards of living 

Are not worth a dime. 
If out of life I could take it with me, 

But I've no use for it where I go, 
I gather it seeking pleasure, 

It proves only a source of woe. 
Now I know 'twas a failure, 

To worship the yellow gleam, 
It has truly revealed the fact 

That life is only a dream. 
11 



The widow said, as slie plaoted 

The rose on her husband's grave, 
"I'm all alone in the world 

And must strive to be brave, 
Tho' object of devotion gone 

On w^hich her life was bent, 
As she recalled happy moments 

More deeply her heart was rent. 
As the tombstone reflected 

These words of scriptural theme, 
She struggled to stifle the utterance 

Of life is only a dream. 
The aged christian reflected 

Knowing life was nearing its last 
"I've neither honor or riches. 

But I'm satisfied with the past. 
To travel the same road over 

Doing the best I know, 
I believe that [ should enjoy 

Again through life to go. 
For by my accomplished efforts 

And eternities hopeful beam, 
I've intuitive solved the mystery 

That life is more than a dream. 



13 



Life's DriH. 

Life's Drill is composed of live girls and fivo boys. 
The girls, Perfection, Love, Obedipnce, Pntience and 
Honesty should he arrayed in white robes. Perfection, the 
queen, wearing a wreath, or crown, upon her head, leads 
and introduces her angles. 

The boys are Evil, Hatred, Slothfuhiess, Jealousy and 
Dishonesty, Evil, the king, blackened and wearing horns 
is more hedeons than the rest. He introduces his servants, 
who should be arrayed in shirtvS and panfaloons of various 
colors. 

The inarch through the hall, or room, can be varied 
according to taste. The first stationary position is with 
Perfection at the head of her angels iii the first row, while 
in the rear rov7 is Evil and his servants, far enough back 
to be partly shadowed. 

Perfection.— "Behold ail virtue blended in oneness! 
I inspire humanity with tiie art of God and the harmony 
of Heaven. The highest attainsnents, the grandest con- 
ceptions and the noblest achievements are mine. Woed by 
love, accomplished by obedience, perfected by patience, 
and enobled by honesty, I point and lead to supnrnal 
relms. With pleasure I introduce my angel. Love." 

Love. — "In me you will find the first and greatest 
commandment ever given by the Deity ; and the second 
like unto the first is embodied in me: 'Love thy neighbor 
as thyself.' In the sunlight and in the dewdrop; in the 
blooming fiowers and singing birds ; in the golden grain 
and ripening fruit, alike in all nature I reign supreme. 
Though often I am detlironed in the minds of mankind yet 
without me you can never know Perfection. ' ' 

Perfection.— "If you love me yDu will obey me. Then 
next to love is my angel, Obedience." 

Obedience.- "Upon the battlefield the well decipliued 
soldier I march to victory and glory. Through disobedience 
rebellion in heaven was wrought and angels of light were 
transformed to deamons of darkness. I am the first law of 

13 



nstnre, existing alike in tho aSoui luul in the solr.r systenj, 
constsiilly workin out the gifat Designer's will. I point 
the perfect way to all, though liarces per].s[j or sparrows 
fail. All that is maguificient in motion, sublime in mag- 
nitude, is grand in the crdor of obcdietiee. " 

P. — "Tlie next is n)y uncomplaining angel Patience." 

Patience.— "My highest ideal is the crucifix upon 
which the Prince of Glory died. My destiny is the ever- 
lasting happiness and eternal peace. I foil besetting tri- 
bulations, and as a goddess I aui worshiped by those who 
know rae. I ph^ad with the wr.yward, sooth the sick, 
rally the discouraged, sympathize with the sorrowing and 
inspire a heavenly hope by my faithful adherence to duty. 
You will find me in both skill and labor. I am eternal in 
the sculpture's chisel, the artist's pencil, the surgeon's 
knife, the sexton's spade, the mechanic's drill, the seam- 
stress' needle and the statesman's pen. From the spinning 
of the spider's web to the laying of the Atlantic cable I 
point the way to success. I probe the mysteries of science 
and am visible in all wonderful achievements " 

P. — "Not least in my leagon, " (pointing to Honesty,) 
"is this undispensable factor. Honesty." 

Honesty. — "I establish a confidence that cannot be 
bartered. I command the etherial atmosphere and elevate 
my subjecrs above earthliness. I inspire a selfrespect in 
comparison to which gold and worldl}^ treasures are bnt 
worthless dross. If I be absent in the mechanism of hu- 
manity, it matters not what splendors may encircle or 
honors may accompany all, is a failure awaiting timely 
disclosure. We have been rightly taught that an honest 
man is the noblest work of God." 

The second march brings the boys in front and the girls 
in the rear. 

Evil.— "Concentrated in me are all the sorrows of the 
human race. My servants haunt all individuals, and gain 
a foothold upon every accessable mind. Here you behold 
only four of my servants, but in the structure of my king- 

14 



dom there are lesions whose mission it is to work hnvoc 
and ruin. From the first period of responsibility I sae 
that every one is constantly visited alike, the young and 
old, the rich and poor, tlie great and small, and almost mi- 
exceptionally somewhere in their lives mv kingdom is es- 
tablished. I venture to introduce my servaut, Hatr3d. 
Have you ever met liim before?" 

Hatred. — "TJie kingdom of Satan is established in me, 
and revenge is an offspring of which I am proud. I per- 
petuate tlie most blood curdling deeds and foster the vilest 
conceptions. My habitation is in tiie minds of those who 
will tolerate me. 'Tis there I build my home and rear 
my young. " 

Evil. — "My second servant, like unto tlie first, has 
jftea been met with before. I will introduce Slothfulness. " 

Slothfulness.— "Carelessness and idleness like unto me 
are chosen tools of Evil. When precision and industry are 
forsaken, I goad myself and grasping the opportunity, by 
mischievous devices, I lead my victims downward until 
they are branded as subjects of our king Evil. Pass 
through the prison and behold in the multitud my liandi- 
.w ork. ' ' 

Evil.— "Fortunate is that being Vv ho never met with my 
servant, Jealousy." 

Jealousy. — "I am the wizzard from the infernal world. 
I glory in tlie eruption of homes, and in the anguish of my 
victims, and in the wounds I inflict. My mission is to in- 
cite husband against wife, brother against sister, lover 
against sweetheart. I ignore the good and disdain the 
pure. The precepts of sin I scatter regardless of results. 
Like a roaring lion I traverse the earth seeking whom I 
may devour. ' ' 

Evil. — "I crush personal respect and bar the road to 
success by my servant, Dishonesty." 

Dishonesty. — "Who is more alert and active than I? 
Yet no one ever prospers who listens to my suplications, 
dictations or commandments. Then why do men obey me? 

15 



I guild the way to success by pliautoms and hire ti.e 
millions to woe a distruction. I leave my victims pining 
in dnngeous to repent at leasure, while I langli at tl;e. 
m^isery I have wrought. Beginning with trifles and end- 
ing with importance I have hjarded illbegotten weahh 
since time first began." — [Exit] 



Miss Ethers Reply. 

That dark eyed man to liis bethrothed 
Upheld the suitor of earthly worth. 
And gloried in the flusli that told 
The secret of a lover's soul. 

In reply the maiden stood. 
The image of true womanhood. 
Wounded, though, she bade him hear, 
Tu language plain and accents clear. 

"Trne, lie is a millionare, 
But do you think I stoop to care? 
I am not bartered by gold or fame, 
Were he England's prince, 'twould be 
the same. 

"Tis merit alone that does enhancs, 
With fame and fortune I take my 

chance, 
And center affection on true worth, 
Not hoarded wealth or royal birth. 
"Vast fields of grain belong to liim, 
And tracts of land and castles dim ; 
Equipage and servants at his command 
But they cannot buy Miss Ethel's hand. 
"From the repulsive thought I turn 

away. 
And my heart it seems to stray 
To the object of true worth 
That gave my affections birth. ' ' 

16 




ETHEL M. JOHNSTON 
Negation 



This declaration made so strong, 
Repulsed each thouglit, though liar- 

Dored long. 
What liappened then we all may guess, 
For words alone fail to express. 



The Woolen Mills, 

Remindful of the grim dark prison of 
old, 

Of which ghostly visions are told, 

How martyrs suffered and patriots bled 

And the dungeons bespattered with 

blood are still red ; 
The woolen mill at the end of town, 
Like one of these hideous spectrals is 

found. 
Chained and locked is the fettered door 
Where a chil] awaits to cover o'er 
The forms which enter tlie walls which 

glare, 
As if haunted by ghosts who wrere 

lurking there. 
Towering on one side above the mill, 
Is a perpendicular, rocky, moss grown 

hill. 
As though nature scorned the laborer's 

doom. 
And sought to bury them in a living 

tomb, 
From the western side, on a summer 

day, 
Where the waters with the sunshine 

play. 
From Salem, Albany, Corvallis, Eugene 
Passing through the locks these boats 

may be seen : 
The Lang, Ruth and Modoc, at will, 

17 



Load and unload at the woolen mill. 
The seething waters from the pictur- 
esque falls, 
Yield their power to t]ie mill and 

splash on its walls. 
Then these Willamette waters, with 

the Columbia combined. 
Flow toward the ocean in freedom mi- 

confined. 
By the features of each inmate 
Can be traced a resignition to fate. 
And all labor with thoughtful care, 
Though no penal law has placed them 

there, 
As a bee in a hive his mission knows 
And strictly on his business goes. 
Or as the architect of a coral strand, 
Where each alone for himself must 

stand, 
Is found the laborers of the mill, 
Each striving alone his place to fill. 
Marvel you, how tlie wool is brought 

there. 
And leaves the mill ready to wear. 
Whether sheared from the sheep, or 

still on its hide, 
Ready to be picked, or washed or dyed. 
Frank is hard at labor here, 
Supporting his mother and sister dear. 
High ambitions in life he once laid, 
But as soon as he entered the sixth 

grade. 
Poverty compelled them against their 

will. 
To end his schooling and send him to 

the mill. 
He pulls the wool from the rotten hide, 

18 



He'd endure the stench though he died, 
While his sickening heart turns away, 
To tJie all important "pay day." 
Wool from the East, wool from the 

West, 
Wool of the finest, wool of the best. 
Wool from the patriotical sheep, 
Whose mutton sailed the stormy deep, 
Embalmed, pressed and mixed with 

the beef. 
And sent to the soldiers in need of 

relief. 
Wool from the leaders of the flock, 
Who trace their pedegree back to the 

ark. 
Wool from the offsrings of that ram 
Caught by the horns for Abraham, 
When Isaa-c was on the alter lain, 
Awaiting the knife with which to be 

slain. 
All to be carded and spun into cloth 

of the best. 
Measured, stitched, folded and pressed 
Leaving the mill for the human back. 
Not even a buckle or button to lack. 
A stranger entering the office door. 
And guided along from floor to floor. 
Is reminded of mortals who fell, 
And invariably looks for a convict's 

cell, 
And missing the striped garb, might 

ask. 
If the prisoners were at their daily task 
For laboring there, if but rightly seen, 
Under a lash more cruel and keen. 
Than ever scourged a southern slave. 
Or courage to the dumb brute gave, 

19 



Is many a parent and child perhaps, 
Continuously watching the day elapse, 
Trembling with fear, lest lack of care 
Should mark a fine on the record there, 
The blow to fall on the home so dear. 
And forcing back the sifled tear, 
With the thought of the little ones 

to guard, 
Beyond his strength he labors hard 
To enhance the home, keep the in- 
mates fed, 
Thus spurned to the task he earns 

their bread. 
Watchng each occupation there, 
Now the warp they quickly prepare, 
The individual fibers, side by side, 
With nimble fingers the knots are tied, 
Automatically the w^ork seems to be 

done, 
Thus constant practice, prefection has 

won. 
The moments, hour and day wear by, 
How Tom's fingers, they do fly 1 
The large wheel turns around and 

around, 
On the wheel the warp is closely 

wound, 
Cotton, silken and mohair strands. 
Passing through the laborer's hands. 
On the large wheel mark their way, 
In one declaration seem to say, 
' ' The richest gift to human kind 
Is a will of fate resigned. " 
Every where found, Tom is the same, 
Many an order is proud of his name, 
For fellowship with mortal man. 
In the leading circles of the land, 

20 



A place of trust, reserved is there, 
Which Tom fills with worthy care. 
Soon he'll leave the dreary mill, 
And light his pipo and climb the hill, 
Slowly, slowly up the steep ascent, 
On his precious boys his heart is bent. 
From the boarding house gleams a 

light, 
His pace is quickened by the sight. 
Soon two motherless babes will sink 

to rest 
Reclining on their parent's breast. 
Near by the goods swing from a scaf- 
fold high. 
Each flaw is examined by a critical 

eye. 
Now the girls in the "drawing-in- 

room" know their trade, 
And mend the holes that are partly 

made, 
For when paid by the day, though no 

work can be found, 
'Tis wise to be busy when the "boss" 

comes around. 
The variety of machinery operated 

here, 
A Chinese prison might leave in the 

rear. 
For stretching, twisting and adjusting 

the wear, 
As the criminals of the prison are 

extorted there. 
Through numerous machines each 

piece now goes. 
Whose needful improvement its man- 
ager knows. 
Dick, throughout his lenial race, 

21 



For generations back can trace. 
The highest desire was to fill 
An important place at the wooln mill. 
So early training has taken root, 
And in coming years has born its fruit, 
And it can be most plainly seen 
That Dick is devotd to his machine. 
'Tis thus a long communion tends, 
In giving rise to mutual friends. 
Master of liis alotted task. 
Nothing better does he ask, 
Its own peculiar function to fill. 
In perfect obedience to his will. 
Daily connection with his machine. 
Has wrought a fellowship unseen. 
Having gained his great desire. 
Contented now with nothing higlier, 
The mill to him is his only theme, 
And satisfaction reigns supreme. 
Each consecutive piece through the 

process goes. 
Whose important improvement it 

readily shows. 
When all is completed and perfectly 

right, 
The goods are jiermitted to pass from 

sight. 
They disappear through a small door, 
Consisting of a covered hole in the 

floor, 
Where each in succession follows the 

path. , 
To the room below where it takes its 

bath. 
Next we enter the long dark room 
Filled with many a noisy loom. 
In boyhood days from fortune barred, 

22 



Alone ill life he labored hard, 
Through perseverance he strove to 

excel , 
By fompleting each aiidertaking well 
V/ith modest pride he does confess, 
He owes this secret to his success. 
Now "boss" of the VN-eavers see him 

stpiid 
To instruct and to conimand, 
Posfc-essor of foresight, strength, and 

skill 
Master of a determined will. 
No two ways with him you know, 
But every thread to its place must go. 
A princely conrt v.ell miglit he grace, 
But none of the mill con Id take his 

place. 
Near the door on a little stool, 
Winding the threads on a spool, 
Is a neat and pretty little girl. 
Whose lips when part show rows of 

pearl, 
With a saucy little nose, 
Cheeks like velvet from the rose, 
Sparkling eyes like diamonds shine, 
Through the silkt^ii lashes fine. 
With her brown and braided hair, 
A duchess could not be more fair, 
Waiting on all here in the mill. 
Not one moment is she still. 
Nannie is the maiden's name, 
Many say it is a shame 
To pen inside a prison wall 
One intended for a castle hall. 
Free from malice, envy, strife, 
And all the baneful things of life, 
Through the mill now here, now there, 

23 



Scattering sunshine evrey where, 

To the shadowy brain and clouded 

heart, 
An angel's light she must impart. 
With gentle ways and robust health, 
For the possession of true wealth, 
The woolen mill could not compete, 
With Nannie's disposition sweet. 
In the center of this long room 
Stands Betsy, attentative to her loom. 
Weaving the blankets that will find a 

bed, 
In the Countess' chamber or plieasant's 

shed. 
Intent in completing another one. 
Before the whistle blows and the 

day's work is done. 
Renewing her eiforts toward the last. 
While her meager earnings, she doe? 

cast. 
She watches the fibers one by one, 
From the time it began, till the 

blanket is done. 
Fearing tlireads will be broken or 

missing there, 
Consigning the goods to damaged 

wear. 
Just as life's fibers are laid you know, 
While rapid into the future we go. , 
And without thought or prayerful care 
Our lives are consigned to the damaged 

wear. 
All colors of the rainbow seen,, 
Red, crimson, purple and green. 
The yellow of jealousy plain to behold. 
As in our lives it is always bold ; 
Now and then the stripeings of blue 

24 



-■"■ 


■ 


i 1- 

jam--' 




KT.. 





BOSS OF THE WEAVERS METZNER 
Decision 



Remind us that sometimes mortals are 

true, 
And the white blanket, as spotless as 

snow, 
As beginning or ending is striped you 

know, 
The warp now expands like a flash 

to be seen, 
Then catches the thread as it dodges 

between, 
Whatever color the shuttle may bear. 
Is quickly woven into the wear. 
Be it the dark instead of the light, 
Or the wrong instead of the right. 
To retrace the work and tear out the 

spot, 
Is the hardest part of a weaver's lot. 
Thus through life as we move along, 
The hardest thing is t« right the 

wrong. 
The weaver now standing in thought- 
ful devotion. 
Seems to partake of perpetual motion 
With the whirling spindles, and belts, 

and wheels, 
And shafts, and bars, and glittering 

steels, 
That moment by moment, and hour 

by hour. 
Seem to feel their resistless power, 
Realizing the importance of exacting 

pace; 
For anxious to fill each vacant place, 
Is a multitude greater than the leathers 

and steels 
That mend the broken belts and 

wheels. 

25 



The rich man upon this spot, 

By curiosity may be brought, 

And for explanations idiy ask 

Of the laborers at their manual task ; 

With shrug of slioulders he might 

spurn 
The thouglit of stooping thus to learn. 
One year's advance may scarcely pass 
When brought to want by fortune's 

blast. 
And his precious darling is forced to 

fill, 
Betsy's place there at the mill. 
If bent or twisted or broken in twain 
The machinery is quickly mended 

again, 
By the loom fixer who answers there. 
Knows what is wrong and how to 

repair. 
With hammer and wrench and bolt 

and strap, 
He seeius to be ready for any mishap 
That might be the terrible doom, 
And settle upon the unlucky loom. 
A place with records he might fill, 
Along with the doctor with surgical 

skill, 
The surgeon who dissects the heart 
And joins the bones that are broken 

apart. 
And truly impossible it is to die. 
If his presencce is but nigh. 
From the chaos of tissues and muscles 

of men 
He reunites and he breathes again. 
Successfully thus the man at the mill 
Cures the loom of its every ill ; 



By tearing apart and putting together 
Be it in wood, or steel or leather. 
It is twelve o'clock, the lever is thrown 
For the whistle has just now blown, 
Echoing its message clear and shrill 
For the hungry toilers of the mill; 
Blending into one harmonious sound 
Its melodies which circumferecne the 

town ; — 
That the bread of labor is sweet, 
And those who toil have a right to eat. 
On the pavement is heard the patter 

of feet, 
The lunch baskets transmit a savor 

sweet, 
From the warm coffee waiting impat- 
iently there, 
Its aroma escapes on the redolent air; 
Little Elsie, a brunette of Scottish 

decent, 
On her brothers and father her eyes 

are now bent. 
The lark in his ariel flight, 
Never possessed a heart so light. 
Prattling children, and birds and 

flowers, 
Are heaven's gift to this dark world 

of ours. 
When the door swings to the whistle's 

call 
She trips inside the gloomy wall. 
Of her musical talent her steps seem 

to partake, 
As the blue bells bloom for Scotland's 

sake; 
And a Brace or a Wallace might strive 

to trace 

37 



The long lost crown of the subjected 

race 
Borne by her parents o'er ihe salt 

water strand 
To find a grave in freedom land, 
Where many a Douglas has bravely 

shown 
He prized his country's blood more 
than his own. 
The "boss pro tern" now rules the 

room, 
Throughout the silent hour of noon. 
Sublime and powerful is the display. 
When nature in her wrath gives way. 
When earth's foundations tremble and 

shake 
And columns of fire through the moun- 
tains break ; 
When the angry ocean lier elements 

combine, 
The upheaval of nature is always 

sublime. 
But to see darting across the room, 
In the direction of an unruly loom, 
A temper carrying a man away, 
This unqestionably is the grandest 

display. 
With an oil can up the ladder is found. 
Morning and evening making his 

round, 
Empting the spools and gathering the 

wool, 
Filling his rolling basket full, 
Oiling or sweeping or gathering the 

waste, 
Pus^nng and loading his cart witli 
haste. 



Ijike a kitten at play when smoothly 

all goes, 
Like a firey eyed demon when he is 

opposed. 
This fellow can be no other, 
Than Rip Van Winkle's eldest brother. 
The next story aboYe where they card 

the w^ool. 
Of minor boys the room is full. 
And the marvel is that the school can 

spare 
So many children peued in there. 
In a nation which bears the name 
And prides herself in asserting the 

same ; — 
That armies and navies she need not 

collect, 
Her ward against danger is intelect. 
For since the new law came into force, 
All are over fifteen of course, 
The temptation is greater at prema- 
ture age 
To ripen in years at an early stage. 
Imitating their "boss" as near as they 

can, 
For he to them is a model man. 
Perfection truly is their need, 
In word and thought, as well as deed. 
Thus let it be, if it be so I 
Trusting as through life they go. 
To the highest point they may attain, 
Like their "boss" and there remain. 
World wide allowance for the boy is 

given, 
In his travels from earth to heaven, 
For who can make more blunders than 

a boy can, 

29 



Unless it be tlie grown up man. 
Busy is ea,ch little pair of hands 
Earning the wages its labor demands. 
Carding the wool, and when it is done, 
Sent above to where it is spun. 
The spinner ready to play his part, 
Master of his allotted art, 
Twists the ends of the whirling wool, 
And watches the bobbins unti i they 

are full. 
The "boss" of the spinners is de- 
lighted to see 
The product of his spinning industry. 
In constant motion is kept every jack, 
That for filling the weavers may never 

lack. 
What a consternation would surely 

be there, 
If he were elected to the executive 

chair. 
And the mill should retain its boss 
At the cost of a national loss 
The spooling girls they gaze below 
On the crowds that are passing to and 

fro, 
And by— accident of course it is said. 
Drop missiles on the unlucky head. 
Who dares to think these girls would 

try. 
To catch the glimpse of a stranger's 

eye, 
High o'er all toward heaven they are. 
Above the thoughts of the world so far, 
They fashion fate and make their 

plans, 
With the whirling spools and twisting 

strans, 
'Till the whistle bades them leave the 



fioor. 
And freedom is given back once more. 
There is Olive, Gracie, Estella arid 

Kate, 
On the cornel' they impatiently wait. 
To oonntless charms and beauty given, 
A type of the perfect work of heaven. 
The light of oonque.st guilds each eye 
And the transport meets the passer by. 
"Old Sally," wirh criticism laden, 
Passing, condemns each pretty maiden, 
Her evil ear could not be beat 
For bearing scandal she delights t« 

repeat. 
In gossip she might put to shame 
All legal bearers of that name. 
With jealousy her iieart is wrung, 
In anger because she isn't young. 
Down the sidewalk she hastens now 
Just like a rampageous cow. 
The dark eyed Assistant joins the 

throng, 
And homeward slowly m.oves along. 
A v/axen im.age watch has kept. 
And on the sidewalk joins his step. 
An artist's pencil could not trace 
The contour of a prettier face. 
Nor lovers flute could not repeat 
Music that was half so sweet. 
Few are more able to stand the test, 
Thau the assistant for an agreeable 

guest. 
Perhaps lessons in blarney he daily 

acquires 
From the one holding the position to 

Vviiich he aspires. 
Whose compliments are unnumbered 

31 



nntil cliey appear 
Vibrations for an angels ear. 
As the multitude moves «loug, 
A grizzly being joins the throng. 
Of detestable things there is none 

which can 
Compete with a hardened selfish man. 
His crooked legs and pigeon toes. 
And pointed chin that meets his nose. 
Are fit adornments for a heart 
Condemning nature's noblest art. 
His eyes glare like a demon that 

would immure 
All that is holy, good and pure. 
Slightly remarks, he untruthfully 

hurls. 
To blot the fair name of the laboring 

girls. 
The boys in their teens throttle a smile 
And into the streets in rapidity file. 
A husband and father recalls the scene 
With the delight of a fairy dream ; — 
How his wife, a mill girl, stood there 

one day, 
And he too, in rapture was carried 

away. 
Industry and prudence have stamped 

their name, 
And honor all his features claim. 
His eyes of a rich and hazel blue 
Claim kindred with his heart so true. 
He hastens homeward content with 

his lot. 
And reverences God for that sacred 

spot. 
Before the roses bloom and wither 

again 

32 



In the autumn winds and November 

rain. 
Many others may solve the secret un- 
known 
Of peace and contentment in homes 

of their own. 
And each evening the laborer will 

hasten his steps, 
For he knows that an eager watch is 

kept. 
Soon he'll fold to his heart the pride 

of his life, 
And bless the mill for his sainted wife. 
The tailor room on the second floor 
Contains twenty machines or more. 
In two long rows if still unchanged, 
Stationary to a table they are arranged. 
Of the sewing boss it is said beware, 
For intruders are unwelcome there. 
The seamstress with her dextrous hand. 
Guides the goods at her command. 
With pressure of foot she catches the 

speed, 
Each seamstress now is thoughtful 

indeed. 
A sightless whirl and a singing buzz, 
While its work the machinery does. 
Into a circling path or a straighter one, 
It stitches the garment until it is done. 
One piece more is now laid by, 
Ready to meet the critic's eye; 
Just as the cassimere is held to the 

liglit, 
To see that every thread is right 
If a fiber thought of going estray 
A pair of black eyes would trace its 

way, 

33 



And mark a fine for the wayward 

thread 
Before the forbidden road it tread. 
Sophists and chemists have failed to 

find 
That w^hich neither is matter nor 

neither is mind ; 
Bat this one truly —if any one can 
Discern the immortal soul of man, 
So the tailor "boss" examines the work 
Leaving no chance for duty to shirk. 
As though the welfare of the men 
Who wore these garments might 

depend 
Wholly apon the perfect sight, 
That set every thread aright. 
Fearing througli life as they bear tlieir 

load, 
While following some meandering 

road, 
A crooked seam might mark their way, 
And they thereby be lead estray. 
So the garments are shaped and fash- 
ioned there, 
Just as tlie Sandal plion guides each 

prayer. 
Lest after modeling after a blunder 

there 
In this life of worldly care, 
A crooked seam like an erring path 
Might invoke eternal wrath. 
The coat and the sleeves are waiting 

there 
For one individual piece of wear. 
Worthless is each detached from the 

other, 
And the threaded needle binds them 

34 



togather, 

In oneness blended tlirough life should 
be found 

As the bride and the groom at the 
alter are bound. 

If brighter and newer goods were in 
range 

Immagine tlie coat its sleeves to ex- 
change, 

But it is no uncommon thing 

For the bride to exchange her wedding 
ring. 

Though the coat be greatly damaged 
what matter, 

To overlook the stain and mend the 
tatter. 

Although it be mutual who would 
not command 

It much more tiian the fearful rend. 

And both be upheld to a world of sport 

By the talior's shears or the circuit 
court. 

As little dye turns the white, 

So little motives change the light. 

The wool receives its color by the ap- 
plication of dyes, 

Just as the wary culprit deeply hid- 
den lies. 

Changing tlie former stains each time 
through the dye it has passed 

By consecutive dips imprtoing a 
deeper cast. 

Like life's procession though the 
purest it contains, 

Little escapes from the dye exempt 
from the stains. 

Deeper and deeper are the shades of 

35 



the pink. 
As the wool into the boiling liquids 

sink. 
In succession follow vicumina, brown 

and blue 
The purple giving the Bishop's robe 

its hue. 
Teaching though the inclination of 

mortal men 
Is to do an act of kindness to a friend ; — 
Yet unto him who does aspire 
To reach a point that still is higher. 
To an enemy, he will condescend 
To do him good as well as a friend. 
The wool into the boiling liquid lie 
While the heat adjusts the fadeless 

(lye, 
As the known and the unknown are 

united complete 
By the application of attention, 

"mental heat" 
Wool of ravea black from this room 

is passed. 
Only a tarnished name bearing a 

darker cast. 
The minerals yield to change her hue 
With golden threads the wear is 

stamped through. 
As the gold democrats from Bryan 

drew 
Important though they seem but few, 
Free silver met her fatal doom 
And nineteen hundred closed her tomb. 
Escaping from her well made grave 
She marks the cassimere with a silver 

wave. 
Now there is a mixture upon tlie floor 

36 



Of some new dyes untried before. 
As in government the Socialist 
Would like to experiment in this. 
Other wool receives the dye anew 
Changing but not improving the hue. 
As those who strive all ills to cnre, 
And a populist he comes out sere. 
So the wool receives its chosen cast 
When lastly through the dye it has 

passed. 
As 'tis woman's privilege to instill 
Her chosen principles at will, 
Long before man's natal hour, 
Unchanged by any earthly power;— 
Yet who would blame tj woman's 

hand 
The blended colors of each stand. 
Though Adam led by tempting Eve, 
The tree of falsehood did conceive. 
And branches from irs productive root 
In abundance yield their fruit. 
Woman need not wish to raise her 

hand 
To wrench the septer from mortal man. 
On that platform written by angels 

above 
His neighbor has himself to love. 
No restitution nsed be made 
By the variation of any shade. 
Thus the dye is applied aright 
Or th wool retains its spotless white. 
Now a shapeless mass of wool is here 
Just such a havoc does appear, 
When uncurbed, the anarchist hand. 
With total ruin marks tiie land. 
On the basement floor the blankets go 
around, 

37 



Here they are burled, carded and 

bound. 
Peculiarly arranged are the teasels 

there, 
Acting their part in coropletiug the 

wear. 
Polly is there along with the rest. 
Eager to learn and doing her best. 
Each pair now is carefully bound, 
And they seem to be soft as eiderdown. 
Polly is but a young girl as >ou see, 
Reared in a home of luxury. 
Much more so tlian you usually find, 
And ignorant of labor of any kind. 
As society's out cast, for work she 

must roam, 
Her mother's death having ruined her 

home. 
Witliout a trade no place could she fill. 
Until the carding boss made room at 

the mill. 
Who knows but the blanket that Polly 

burls today, 
Across the blue ocean may find its 

way. 
As an Englishman's luggage while on 

foreign soil does roam, 
Help to drive the Boors from their 

productive home. 
You may be buried and your little girl 
Perhaps with pretty Polly the blankets 

may burl. 
Longer hours they are compelled to 

see, 
Under a "Boss" less kind than he. 
Not like the one at present is there, 
In all his exactions honest and fair, 

38 



But a "Boss "that isiinjiist and brutal 

too, 
And harder labor the girls are com- 
pelled to do. 
There is a room in the basement rear, 
Where you will find the engineer. 
At the entrance is stationed a guard, 
Just as the gates of heaven are barred 
By Michael, they say, who letting 

one stare, 
But having no absolute business there, 
Looks toward the sign as one draws 

near 
Of "positively no admittance here." 
We are forced to applaud his constant 

devotion 
That so wonderously blends mind, 

matter and motion. 
Now just as the driving wheel's weight 
Determines the engine's speed, 
So the weight and depth of our pur- 
pose, 
Determines whether we shall succeed. 
And men who feed the furnace, 
When tlieir hearts cease to throb, 
We hopL^ throughout eternity, 
Will discontinue their joK 
For such awfol fires as these men do 

baild. 
With soot, smoke and ashes the long 

chimneys have filled, 
Successfully blackening the read for 

many a weary day, 
So that down the fluess Santa Claus 

never found his way. 
Ending at the beginning, prom aading 

around and around, 

39 



The dreaded "boss of the bosses'' 

the superiDtendent is found. 
And the lucky employees are sure to 

remove from sight. 
When they see him coming, all tliat 

isn't right. 
Many may know of his excelence in 

presenting a toast. 
But more know by experience that he 

can deliver a roast. 
So the laborers when they see him 

coming, in sincerity they pray, 
That the damaged goods will dodge 

his eye and he'll loeaceably go v^ay. 
As soon as his back is turned, 'tis 

doubtful what they think. 
But the employees of tlie woolen mill, 

are none too good to wink. 
The sagacious superintendent, predes- 
tinated that place to fill. 
And his efforts marked with shrewd- 
ness, guard each interest of the mill. 
Murky and misty from mud, rain and 

sleet, 
For disagreeableness the day could 

not be beat. 
Nature's elements combined seemed 

to delight 
In hiding the goddess of justice on 

the court house from sight. 
And the spires that should glitter 

with a weclome sheen. 
Like the rest of the town shrank from 

being seen. 
Down the steps the shivering mill 

hands press. 
Each trying in rapidity to preceed 

40 



the rest. 
For iJie great railroad bell said " iiiig 

dong, ding dong, 
Clear the track in a moment the train 

will be long. " 
Yet before the swiftest had gone half 

of the way, 
The engine rushing by seemed mock- 
ingly to say : 
"Corporations and trusts are increas- 
ing in mi gilt, 
And monopoly claims a limitless 

right." 
Slowly across the track the long 

freight train keeps going, 
As from the arteries of commerce the 

life bloody. was flowing. 
Increasing in magnitude, more and 

more, 
On through nature's channels in a 

ceaseless pour. 
Into regions obscure she dauntlessly 

probed, 
Until freely her life blood encircles 

the globe. 
With one final halt the train blocks 

the path. 
Just as the quarter whistle expostu- 
lates in wrath : 
"No excuse for being late, lost job 

or docked pay," 
A petition was acknowledged for 

clearing the highway. 
Like ants a barrier trying to surmount, 
Above, below, through, around and 

about. 
Thoughtless now of the petition what 

41 



had become of it, 
Could it snugly a pocket or pigeon 

hole fit. 
Making their way at all hazzard, 

knowing their fate 
Would compel them to suffer should 

they dare to be late. 
The laborers press forward, that arc 

able to climb 
And in wrathful remembrance make 

up for lost time. 
Before the mixing of the morter 
That holds the bricks so firmly to 

get her ; 
When the rocks were in the quarry's 

bed, 
Unsmeltered was the iron and lead ; 
The stately tree the forest claimed, 
Unconstructed was the wooden frame ; 
The" night watch" in the cradle lay. 
Busily growing day by day. 
In the evening, now exerting his lungs 

to expand. 
In the morning they see him with 

lantern in hand. 
All believe that his rounds he has 

constantly made, 
And not even in thought from duty 

strayed. 
Circumstantial evidence is a witness 

keen, 
Alike to the high, or lowly, or mean. 
Scorning to give even clemency rest. 
Spurning mercy from her immutable 

breast. 
Always claiming and holding her own, 
Successful against justice, she ascends 



to the tlirone. 
Circumstantial evidence they say 

don't lie, 
And as the head men cf the mill 

draw nigh, 
The broken fragments and pieces of 

glass. 
Telling how the night missels through 

the window passed. 
Or something else prehaps may he in 

arrears, 
And when accompanying the scene the 

"night watch" appears, 
He knows that for playing hooky the 

most eifectual cure 
Unqestionably is for tlie penalty to 

endure. 
So the breaking of the window light. 
That happened on that memorial night, 
And the spreading of this general news, 
Deprived the night watch of his usual 

snooze ; 
Or for vacation in the long dark night. 
Forbade him from the mill take flight. 
Just as each circus has its sideshow, 
Cjrnered on the first floor is the 

dynamo, 
'Tis just such a machine as Franklin 

might commend, 
Like numberless feelers its wires 

extend ; 
Transmitting the ligiitening in a 

creditable manner, 
As to represent the firmament or 
' ' Star spangled banner. ' ' 
And there is no part of the mill that 

is hidden from sight, 

43 



But what is disclose by the electric 

light. 
Everywhere is manifested this al 

energizing power ; — 
In the singing bird, in the blooming 

flower, 
In the puffing engine, in the rusliiug 

train; 
In the roaring cataract, in the patter- 
ing rain, 
In the sparkling dew drops, in the 

plant that is grown ; 
In the Aurora bcrealis of tlie 

northern zone. 
In the solar system, in the comt-t's 

flight. 
In the cyclonic distruction, and the 

golden sunlight, 
Is found this electircal phenomena 

and like the mind of man. 
Is the molucular motion, solve the 

mystery if yon can. 
Upon the wall on every floor. 
Stationed in two places or more. 
May be found an empty pail. 
And near it hanging upon a nail, 
A hose smaller than the Atlantic 

Cable, 
And "fire only" on the wall is labled. 
But this inscription so tliey say. 
Does not keep the demon away. 
The blackened sheds do take a fall, 
When an insurance covers them all. 
Wicked would be the chemical load 
Failing under such circumstances to 

explode. 
And creating a fire that would make 

44 



a clear sweep, 
Of accumulated rubbish piled around 

so deep. 
Just calling the fire department from 

town 
To save the river from being burned 

down. 
The weary laborers need thirst no 

more, 
For the pump like a fountain on the 

basement floor, 
Awaits in submission to any command, 
Anxious to yield to every hand ; 
And from nature's treasures hidden 

from sight, 
pours in abundance her liquid bright. 
Not from decomposed matters or acids 

'tis made, 
But distilled in earths refrigerant 

shade. 
'Tis the drink that gives health, that 

men may live longer. 
Pleading not to be exchanged for a 

drink that is stronger. 
They had Vvheeled wool nearly all day, 
When Pat McOartie led the way ; — 
They scorned the pump that welcomed 

them, 
And slyly slipped around the bend, 
Soon out of sight with ' ' bumpers' ' full : 
"We'll toast to the men who own 

the wool," 
Said Mike O'Connor with glass in 

hand. 
As in the center he took his stand. 
*'Ye know the blaze that made things 

hum, 

45 



And we thought that the jndgniGiit 

day had come, 
And pitching in we played our part, 
And got drenched through by tlie old 

hose cart. 
Because we laid hold and gave them 

a lift 
The woolen shirts we received as a 

gift; 
So here is to the proprietors that are 

always away 
And the two Jpxob boys we see every 

day." 
Following the example of wayward 

men, 
To return to earth again, 
Or liiie an erring tempter which does 

stray 
And home again does lind its way. 
Ever ready to leave its station, 
At the slightest provocation. 
So the elevator makes its round 
In its circuit up and down, 
Subject to the changeable will 
Of the employees of tlie mill. 
And few are the laborers who aspire 
To ascend toward heaven any higher 
Thau the wool which from the sheep 

is shorn. 
And in its process upward borne. 
If nature's laws would change again 
This subject to the will of men. 
Such confusion and disorder wrought, 
would by the fickle minds be brought. 
Like the elevator starting o'er, 
To travel up and down once more. 
In the woolen mill'storehouse guarded 

46 



•svith care 
Is every description of superior wear, 
For mercliantile biisiuess supplies are 

oil hand, 
Ready for shipment at any demand. 
Maccanaw robes and cassimere yon 

find, 
Blankets and flannels of most every 

kind. 
Bundled ann bailed, measured and 

pressed. 
Packages weighing no more or no less ; 
For the Fairbank scales are universal ly 

believed 
To tell the whole trutli and not try to 

deceive. 
Regardless of issue or ensuing fate, 
Every partical of matter is given its 

weight. 
Here the stencil plates await their call. 
Too numerous to count hang on the 

wail. 
Noted for remembrance of their name, 
And importing their mark always 

the same. 
Statistics in books printed and bound, 
A library of themselves near the office 

is found. 
Like biographical volums in bulk 

they appear, 
Filled with designs for the future 

cassimere. 
Confidential in the ready talent and 

skill. 
The cassimere awaits the designer's 

will. 
Whose dextrous hands on improvement 

resolved, 

47 



Are from his pockets withdrawn while 
the iiroblems are solved. 

After effecting designs on the cassi- 
mere complete, 

They triumphantly into his pockets 
retreat. 

Soon historical features in tlie goods 
will be lined, 

In lieu of the checks and circles 
which w'e now find. 

Reaiiziug as in all trades there is 
room at the top, 

Ambitions and skill they are sure not 
to stop. 

Each check and each dot his hands 
set aright, 

Then back to their hiding they plunge 
out of sight. 

Jack Frost has improved by knowl- 
edge gained, 

In his geometrical designs ©n the 
window pain. 

And plain to be seen by the patterns 
made, 

His indebtedness to this expert at the 
designing trade. 

So the goods are fashioned at the 
woolen mill, 

Like the universe completing a de- 
signer's will. 

An obligation to cancel with his 
Eastern friends 

Jones, of San Francisco, some samples 
sends. 

After examining the wear the mer- 
chants order more, 

In Brooklyn, Philadelphia and Balti- 
more. 

48 



Universally decided when brought 

to the test, 
That none could compete with the 

goods of the west. 
For all woolen wear of every sore, 
In quantity and quality never fell 

short. 
The London msrchant strove in vain, 
But year after year his goods remain ; 
And to sell them he surely can't. 
For their wool grows on a cotton plant. 
Now blessed with prosperity his trade 

does appear, 
For he sends to Oregon City every year 
And then patiently waits until 
He receives his supplies from the 

w^oolen mill. 
Corporal Dikes his store to fill 
Met the dark eyed salesman at the mill, 
And asked to see some damaged wear, 
Which he stated he could repair ; 
And retail them for the best, 
Though they could not stand the test. 
Here the conversation was broken in 

twain, 
Uuuttered the other half remained. 
For the air witli a roaring sound was 

filled, 
From the wholesale house the only 

one 
On the planet of Neptune, farthest 

from the sun, 
' ' Gentlemen of the woolen mill 
Of Oregon City please immediately fill 
Our order at the earliest possible date. 
Your goods are pure wool recommen- 
dations state. 

49 



Your merchant in Saturn sincerely 

requests 
To have their bills remembered with 

the rest. ' ' 
Then the vibrations calmed on the ear. 
Yet that organ this utterance seemed 

distinctly to hear : 
"The noblest creation wrought by 

God's hand 
Is divined in the structure of an honest 

man. 
King Edward on Coronation day, 
Might have appeared in neater array, 
For the woolen mill it never failed, 
And if good judgment had prevailed, 
An order might have been sent in there 
For later styles and better wear. 
The washing machine scatters its spray 
In beautiful bubbles which soon pass 

away. 
The softening of soap which has been 

shipped there. 
All has its part in completing the wear. 
But the St Paul dude, or Chicago belle, 
A wonderful tale of woe might tell, 
How the taxes they had neglected to 

pay, 
And their poodle "doggie" was taken 

away. 
His place with the rest iie does nicely 

fill, 
In the soap that is shipped to the 

woolen mill. 
The Sunday school teacher imi^ressed 

on our mind. 
How the story in the bible we'd find, 
Of the woman oppressed with toil 

50 



striving to sell her measure of oil. 
How there appeared a magic ' an, 
And descending on the lucky can, 
An endless stream of oil there came, 
Thus enriching the poor dame. 
For the use of mortal man, 
At the mill it appears she left the can. 
In and out of tlie bank, for it is "pay 

day," 
All are eager to carry their gold away. 
Honesty to this hank has so often been 

traced, 
That it leaves its imprint on the 

treasurer's face. 
The accuracy with which business is 

transacted here. 
Would do ample credit to any cashier. 
While the secretary raises his eyes 

from his pen, 
Knowing that all things done he can 

add "amen. " 
Consciously feeling a righteous pride, 
For over these books he does preside. 
Because it is pay day at the woolen 

mill. 
Many a "toper" must have his fill. 
The butchers display their choicest 

meat, 
The grocers prepare their monthly treat 
Every clerk presents his sweetest 

smile. 
Eager for a share of the laborer's pile. 
Ada glides by with school books for 

her brother, 
A long wished for treasure to present 

to her mother. 
An unparalleled hand in her part, 

51 



She ims prided herself in that partic- 
ular art. 
With the glow of health on her bearti- 

ful face, 
Her gentle ways and winning grace, 
The intelectual current so deep and 

still, 
Has dominion over her passive vrill. 
And the angels in heaven witness how 

true 
The noble young girl has worked her 

way through. 
The rarest gems and richest diamonds 

are found, 
In the hardest and roughest rocks of 

the ground. 
The sweet with the bitter they say 'tis 

God's w411. 
And little Ada still weaves at the 

mill. 
One and all have awaited this day, 
When each should draw his alotted pay 
Trusting the coming check would cast 
An increased sum upon the last. 
With equal thought we do prepare. 
Our labor for the check drawn there, 
On the bank of the heavenly land, 
And cashed by the immortal hand. 
At the sound of the whistle the door 

is swung. 
And a restless tide of old and young, 
Pours into the street one mighty flood, 
Of machinery that is run by blood. 
All are nearer the grave one day. 
But have they advanced any other way? 
And if it is not a progress up you 

know, 

52 



It is truly down we go. 
All over the town the eye can see 
The beautiful homes of the employee. 
Money that built them from the 

banker's till, 
Was drawn from the deposit of the 

woolen mill. 
Among the scripture's wonderful pages 
They, these geneologies tell, 
Of Moses, Saul and David, 
And the Jacobs are mentioned as well, 
How while Esau was hunting 
Jacob at home remained. 
And his brotlier's blessing, 
Through their father obtained. 
And possibly could that blessing 
Consisted in part of a will, 
Transmitting forever to the Jacobs, 
Proprietorship in the mill? 
The Bible in telling the story 
Never a w^ord did say 
About the signature on the check, 
Coming in proper play. 
Now suppose a case that is not likely 

to be. 
That the laborers were proprietors 

and proprietors the employee. 
From their monthly wages cant you 

see at a glance 
How a dollar would bo docked at 

every available chance? 
And when against organized labor 

they unsuccessfully fought. 
In submitting to the union by strikes 

were brought, 
How through constant exactions of 

various kinds, 
53 



Eestoratiou for loss would be made by 

fine. 
How every room would have abun- 
dance of fresh air, 
V/ith a metor on the windpipe of all 

who entered tliere. 
And when the w^eary laborer tried his 

lungs to fill, 
Down upon the day book would go an 

extra bill. 
Convenience for the help would be on 

every floor, 
With a slight addition charged on 

entering the door. 
Looking from this stand point the 

laborers truly see 
What wingless little angels their 

present employers be. 
The employees of the mill believe this 

very day, 
That it somehow liappeued in a mysti- 
cal way, 
Tliat liheity's eagle from her arie on 

high, 
Saw the nation's colors floating in the 

sky. 
Descending she poised for a moment 

in air, 
With a design to perch on the flag 

staff there. 
Fluttering her wings her feet clutched 

the knob. 
Freedom's emblematic bird's heart 

did throb. 
And General Clinton or Howv. of re- 
volution fame. 
At the bird on the mill with their 

muskets took aim. 
54 



And forever to liberty the laborers 

bid adieu, 
By the heart of the bird being pierced 

through. 
Her screams reverbrate as shrill 
A? ever a whistle from the mill. 
Portland, the metropolis of Oregon, 

above all cities of the nation, 
Was honored by the seventh annual 

convention of the Wool Grower's 

Association, 
And when these delegates visited the 

mill, 
The stripling boy let his work stand 

stil. 
Turned completely around with mouth 

opened wide, 
To view the new comers on every side. 
The dainty young maiden, precepit- 

ably shy, 
Improved the opportunity when they 

went by. 
The sour old dame fearing the chance 

she would miss, 
The temptation to "rubber" ^he could 

not resist. 
The industrious laborers, men with 

gray hair, 
Whose dignified looks reproved each 

stare, 
Attentative to their work but their 

eyes slipped away. 
To view the distinguished visitors of 

t^at day. 
The secretary is perched on his little 

stool. 
Remindful of a naughty boy at school. 

55 



In other factories, firms, banks and 

stores, 
Through careless work the standard 

lowers. 
The reason why some ink is red 
Knowing that it has been said 
Blundering on through lack of care, 
Untrathful things are w^ritten there. 
But here facts are fond alone. 
For the secretary's record is well 

known. 
Of transtactioDS done and all done 

well 
The papers, books and ledgers tell 
As though to each mortal they allotted 

the pay, 
On the all-important reckoning day. 
Through the office windovr, outside 

catches his eye, 
When he neglects to be overly sly. 
With his hieroglyphic he fills out the 

blank, 
That draws the gold from the city 

bank. 
"The love of which" the adage is old, 
"Is the root of all evil," by the good 

we are told. , 
The gold so widely acknowledged, 
As the all powerful thing. 
Love, virtue and honor. 
Kneel in submition to this king. 
And yet every laborer, to carry this 

gold away, 
By many an unseen trail. 
Has truly earned his pay. 
While traveling toward the grave 
In the acquisition of wealth, 

56 



Sacrifices eyesight and his general 

liealth. 
Tliis intransical god whose liome is in 

the bank 
Buys a place iu the sanctuary, 
And in tlie social rank 
Raining many a family, 
Sevreing it apart, 
Crowding the natural affection, 
From out the human heart. 
And yet the laborers barter, 
To call this gold their own 
Many a natural gift, 
When it is unanimously known, 
That dissatisfactory results. 
Follow its trancient fame, 
A cold grave to rest in. 
And a forgotten name. 
Now the rest of the help of tlie office, 
Can it possibly be. 
That they once stood at their trial. 
The judge and jury could see 
And thus the sentence was read, 
While their eyes with tears did fill, 
For the rest of their natural days 
Condemned to the woolen mill. 

Biddie's Broken Loom. 

Biddie's loom is broken again. 

And Biddie's heart as well, 
What calamity next shall come 

Shakespeare could not tell. 
Toward the loomfixer's hiding place 

Biddie softly crept. 
Under such a circumstance 

Great Caesar might have wept. 
To break the news in gently, 
67 



She precantioii took, 
Yet for the coming afterclap, 
Now with horror shook. 

A handy shuttle wlilcli dhe grasped, 

In mid air did swing, 
Like RoJjert Fitzsimons' wife 

She entered into the ring. 

The savage boss to the rescue flew, 

He hit his lips with wrath. 
And hurled his looks of anger 

In fleeing Biddie's path. 
The loomfixer addressed the boss, 

Who listened to his dolefull tales, 
Just as the noble Bismark, 

Would to the Prince of Wales. 
Biddie soon returneth 

Her handkerchief she produced, 
Stood wiping her weeping eyes 

With this flag of truce. 
The vanquished hero seized thehammer 

While Biddie's heart did throb. 
He administered to the broken loom 

And then he jumped his job. 
A kinsman to his rescue came. 

And filled his purse with gold, 
By safely storeing him away 

In a mechanical fold. 
The boss' wrath subsided. 

Like the roar of the rain, 
And o'er his tranquil countenance, 

The sunshine played again. 
Hannibal crossed the Alps, 

And ne'er a shuttle did see, 
Wellington fought at Waterloo, 

And gained tlie victory. 

58 



We do admire their generalship, 

Yet eutertaiu a fear, 
Tiiat they would not have conquered 

If opposed by Biddie's tear. 
Biddie's loom now breaks no more, 

Redemption is wrought in full, 
And with a "HoDSon shuttle," 

She is weaving "Dewey wool." 



MY MOTHER. 

A darkened shade o'er life is cast. 
And I sadly gaze upon the past ; 
For never in this world so vast 
I felt a loss so great as the last, 
The death of a loving mother. 
So faithful a friend I ne^er knew, 
Her equals on earth no doubt were few. 
Gentle, kind, loving and true. 
With hope above a groveling crew 
In God, trusted my mother. 
By kindness she had gained a name. 
More enduring than heroic fame. 
She ahvays bore the spot of shame 
to shield iier children from all blame, 
Dear and patient mother. 
'Twas she, so loving and so fair, 
Guarding her children with tender care 
And while fondly kneeling by her 

chair, 
Taught them to lisp their earliest 

prayer,— 
Now gone from the earth is mother. 
Inspired by faith and beauteous love, 
Which came to her as from above, 
'Twas her nature, as of the harmless 

dove, 

59 



To couceal wheu e'er wo sought to 

shove 
Blame upon my mother. 
Now her sacrificing life is o'er, 
Sorrow troubles her no more, 
Nor the afflictions she patiently bore; 
But from me, Oh, death has tor© 
My angelic mother ! 
Alone in the silent tomb, 
As pure as the rose in blcom, 
Above her waves no vauting plume, 
In her shroud invailed hi gloom — 
Is the prostrate form of mother. 
Knnowig she lies in blissful rest, 
No sorrow molests that peaceful breast : 
Having past all earthly test, 
And recorded among the sacred blest, 
Is the name of mouldering mother. 



Mother's Cup and Saucer. 

Mother's cup and saucer 

Though broken they may be. 
Have been a ward against evil 

Through many long years to me. 
Her children have roamed and 
scattered. 

While the north wind moans and 
sighs, 
All through the long cold winter, 

In a neglected grave slie lies. 
I look at her Holy Bible 

A braid of her hair I see. 
But that broken cup and saucer 

Is the dearest thiMg to me. 
This aged piece of china 

In most homes would have no place 

60 




MRS. A. WALTER 

'Pat his 



Bnt to me it is ho altor, 

Where descends the throne of Grace. 
'Tlio lips that taugVit me in chihlhcod 

A guard their memory has kept. 
How oft' I've seen pressing this cup, 

That chastens each wayward step, 
When in mj daily business 

From hont'sty tempted to stray, 
That broken cup and saucer 

Has intercepted the way. 
When tempted to wrong a neigiihor^ 

Some worldly point to gain, 
Or to speak a cruel word 

That would cause another pain. 
The lips which pressed that cup, 

Setting so high upon the shelf, 
Seem to rebuke my actions, 

And I chastise myself. 
Trouble, sickness and sorrow. 

Failure in life's high call, 
Discouragements that are unnumbered 

And my weakness crowns them all. 
With the disappointments of life 

My list is full made up, 
Since last I saw her drinking 

From that broken cup. 
'Tis doubtful if there be a convict 

Suffering for his crimes today. 
But a broken cup and saucer 

Might have turned the way. 
For by some foul action 

He'd shrink to have mother know, 
As she sips the contents of the cup, 

He drinks the dregs of woe. 
Women in your beauty and grace, 

And men in your stalworth the pride, 

61 



Let tlie broken cup and saucer 
Be your heavenly guide. 



Good Resolutions Too Late. 

A widow did you ask? Yes. No, no — 
Yet again and again I Jiave wished 

it were so. 
If in honor my o^^ n dear Imshand was 

dead 
I could more easily earn our bread. 
Robert lives, he does, but wliere? 
Sentenced for life in the prison there, 
A truer and better husband than he. 
And a kinder father could not be. 
How oft we two have sat in the little 

church 
And together the scriptures did search ; 
He would say in the future one day 

lie would be 
From all bad habits entirely free. 
The thought of these resolutions bring 

hot tears, 
And I look ar our baby of only five 

years. 
Who is sure to say, "please mamma 

don't cry. 
Papa will come home again by andby. " 
Just the image of his father, so manly 

and fair, 
And I push back tlie locks of long 

curling hair. 
His bright eyes with intelligence beam, 
Yet I wish his existance was only a 

dream. 
Employment here is very hard to find, 
Wi th such a disgrace upon me and 

mine. 



If I could fly to some place unknown, 
But I cannot leave him here in the 

prison alone. 
Two weeks from the day the trial was 

o'er, 
That I entered the prison door. 
Oh ! the anguish I never can tell. 
When I was refused admittance to his 

cell. 
Coldly they bade m« go away 
With permission to return on tiie next 

Thursday, 
Promising that my husband I could 

see. 
In the presence of a guard along with 

me. 
But how can I meet him! We both 

know the stain 
He lately imprinted on liis once 

honored name. 
Yes I shall go and him I will see, 
And I shall take little Bobbie along 

with me. 
Sincerely I wish we were going there 

to stay, 
As nearer and nearer draws the 

promised day. 
When I tell you my story yon too will 

see, 
That he was the victim of a conspiracy. 
He had a friend, or rather called him 

so, 
But when tested only, true friendship 

we know. 
Their business was the same, but of 

the two. 
My husband the more successful! 

grew. 



Ju8t the day baforo the races would 

be here, 
I was troabiod witii a couscieiicious- 

fear ; 
In coustuiit companionship tliese tw(. 

were found, 
By one common interest they seemed 

to be bound. 
In courting Robert's friendsiiip such 

pains he took, 
Those black eyes of his had a sneaking 

look. 
When he left our parlor the other 

night, 
I cautioned dear Robert, but he laughed 

at my friglit. 
To me he looked like a vulture tii:it 

would feed 
On the quarrels that liquor and gamb- 
ling breed ; 
A dispute over the races the next day 

he raised then, 
After getting my husband to drink 

again and again. 
As a true friend he was disguised with 

care, 
Knowing Robert's weakest points he 

attacked him there. 
And as the dispute in anger grew, 
My husbard tlireatened what he would 

do. 
One who, when sober a murderous 

thought 
Never within his brain was wrought. 
Preparation for the deed was made 

with care, 
That a deadly weapon should be ready 

there ; 

64 



This fiend under the shadow] of 

friendship hidden, 
Excited his victim who now did as he 

was bidden. 
So weakened with liquor, he exault- 

iugly knew, 
Whispered "Robert be a man, to your 

word be true. ' ' 
The weapon loaded was there on the 

spot, 
And the heart of a stranger was 

pierced by the shot. 
Goaded with triumph, his pretended 

friend, 
Knew that m business competition 

would end. 
Oh the work of that moment no tongue 

can tell, 
The ruin of himself and family as 

well. 
You see how liquor marked his ruinous 

path, 
Enough to be unable to stifle his wrath. 
If only sober Robert had been, 
This advantage they could never have 

taken then. 
Soon after, the sentence I heard, wliile 

the people did gaze, 
Condemned to hard labor the rest of 

his days. 
Now parted forever from babe and 

from wife, 
He wears the prison striped garb the 

rest of his life. 



Canvassing Books. 
Down in the beautiful valley away, 
65 



Where the birds in springtime are 
carolling, 

Where the summer sun pours down all 
day 
Its rays upon nature's garland, 

Where the rigor of winter 

Oomes forth to invigor 

The prosperous yoemen 

Who deem the deep snow, 

And the cold winds that blow, 
An unfailing omen 

Of abundance next season, — 

Is a mansion emblazoned in splendor 

Where a romantic urchin 

Was born and bred, 

By a mother gentle and tender. 

Miels away lives her cousin of woman- 
ly mould, 

Where the pine trees tower and tama- 
racks grow. 

Amid cranberry marshes centuries old, 

And wintergreen swamps where wild 
flowers blow. 

Where rushes from the hillside, 

A rivulet that rushes, 

Bringing down its white foam, 
All the long year round, 
By a low plot of ground 

Where stands the maid's home 

On a neat little farm. 

There love and blissfulness reign. 

Among brilliant young children, 

Who cause not an effort, 

For perfection and order is ever main- 
tained. 

Near a large city that stretclies so 
vastly, 

66 



It recently happened one cold winter 

day, 
That these two lasses, differing so 

gastly, 
Came together in a comical way. 
With a project in view 
That baffied all logic. 
For the city they started. 
In liaste they went forward, 
In a bobsled they borrowed. 
And wiien they departed 
All the neighbors rejoiced. 
No wonder there was spread a frantic 

alarm, 
When these tw^o alighted 
In the streets of the city, 
Each carrying a bundle under her arm. 
What next to be done they scarcely 

knew. 
Or where to commence the streets were 

so wide, — 
But they finally resolved, these stragl- 

ing two, 
For each to canvass her specific side. 
To elude suspicion 
Tliey wisely concluded 
To leave the largest luggage at a store. 
While the streets they promenade, 
The police they evade. 
Tiiey will come back after more, 
When they have sold their first load, 
They enter the first house not overly 

bold, 
And when each one returns. 
She meets her companion. 
Who asks her how many books she has 

sold. 

67 



All the long afternoon of that wintery 

day, 
In each home their monotonous lingo 

recite, 
And "no" is all the occupants say, 
While slowly dawns the shadow of 

night, 
Both faint hearted and tired. 
For a lodging place start. 
One was a student who worked for 

her board. 
While the other little dunce 
Left her school all at once, 
A fortune to make by selling tlie 

adored. 
Wonderful, wonderful books. 
No venturing that night in the streets 

of the city. 
But with bones that were aching. 
And brains that were whirling, 
They cuddled in bed with a prayer for 

pity. 
Morning dawned with its bright sun 

beams, 
They resolved to abandon their 

perilous fate; 
The niglit was not filled with blissful 

dreams. 
And botl; were too tired to even talk 

straight. 
'Twas plain to behold \ 
No one need be told, 
That on going home their minds were 

bent. 
And each in their turn. 
This one thing they had learned, 
That a canvasser of books 

68 



Earns evrey cent,. 

Even unto this day 'tis their unchang- 
ing belief, 
From books by canvassers sold 
One would starve on the gold 
With tliat as their only relief. 



Rescued From the Slams. 

It was one very cold winter night, 

When a strange man saw by a flicker- 
ing light 

Two Salvation Soldiers entering the 
slum, 

And begged them for money wath 
which to buy ru.m. 

By one honest effort, honestly plead- 
ing, 

Him back to his home in thought they 
were leading 

To the wife he'd deserted and babies 
so dear, 

Fearing his companions and scorning 
a tear, 

He sought woe in the drink that has 
been 

The ruin and shame of imndreds of 
men. 

After hearing his story of sorrow 
complete. 

Two sisters were sent up the dark 
street 

Along with the stranger who under 
conviction, 

Sought from the world a holy protec- 
tion. 

Up the stairs to the landing floor 



Theu ascending by ;i ladder to the? 

attic ioor — 
Is a room where the rotten shingles 

miglit 
Have been misplacted to let in the 

light. 
For no other sho"wn Imt the moon's 

pale beam, 
Where the mother sat watcliing one 

infant dream. 
And weeping again with a mother's 

prayer, 
O'er the one whom death had visited 

there. 
Through the long night the least 

noise to hear. 
Startled her form with unusual fear. 
But in ceasless prayer her lieart would 

yearn, 
That free from liquor he might return ; 
The father sober once more, be found 
Before his daughter was placed under 

ground. 
The day before she pined and said, 
* ' Rapa curses win n we have no bread ; 
It has been two weeks since he was 

here, 
1 love my papa, he is so dear. 
I'm cold and hungry but I'll not 

complain, 
If papa will come home to me again. " 
In her mother's arms like a withered 

flower. 
When scarcely had elapsed another 

hour, 
She passed aw ay with the angel there, 
Who took her from this world of care. 

70 



liaying the cold corpse of the little 

one 
Oil the pile of rags by her baby son, 
She lifted tier eyes from the face of 

the dead. 
And thought of the change in the man 

she had wed; 
How through liquor he had squandered 

a home, 
How among strangers they were 

forced to roam ^ 
How he'd gambled liis employer's 

money away 
And the officer came and took him 

that day; 
When the term of six months was 

brought to an end. 
He promised to live a upright man; 
How the love for drink overcame all, 
And she feared 'twould be the cause 

of a second fall. 
How the thought of leaving him 

existed long, 
But the ties of love were woven too 

strong^ 
A sound on the ladder, what could it 

be! 
And opening the door quickly to see, 
'Twas not her husband ,by the noise 

she knew — 
Then a Salvation bonnet came into 

view — 
She thought of the threats her husband 

would make, 
How every bone in their bodies he'd 

break. 
Should she permit one of that band 

71 



Ever inside of the door to stand? 
Out side partly hidden by the gloom 
Seeming to be backward on entering 

the room — 
Stood the fathe/ awaiting to see 
If still welcome he there might be. 
He was conscious of wrong and 

smitten with shame, 
But love is unchanging and always 

the same. 
One moment the mother tlie truth now 

guessed. 
And quicklj^ is folded close to his 

breast. 
One treasure of home he found 

placed on high, 
And was determined to meet her again 

by and by. 
In disgust he remembered the life of 

dark cast, 
And when prayers ascended for the 

good of the race, 
The Army was foremost at God's 

tlirone of grace. 



Christmas Gems. 
I. 

The star of Bethlehem guided the way, 

Until in the heaven it stood 
O'er the manger where tlie Savior lay, 

And to see him the wise men could. 
The message of this gift of God, 

Down through the ages rang ; 
"Peace on earth and good will toward 
men, ' ' 

The angel immortal sang. 
'Tis God's only begotten son, 

72 



Came tlie dark world to light ; 
Niueteeu hundred and four years 

Have passed since that night, 
Frankincense and myrrh 

Were the gifts which he received, 
But life immortal and endless bliss 

For the Christians who believed. 
That memorial Christmas day 

Has long gone into the past. 
But the light of tlie world still shines. 

And bright are the rays it casts. 

II. 

In naming the countries of the globe, 

How many can I tell? 
There is Europe, Asia. Australia, 

And the Americas as well. 
And the dark continent of Africa, 

Where the little heathen grow ; 
Of our merry Christmas day 

As yet they do not know. 
Tliey never heard of Santa Clans 

Whom we all love, 
Nor of our dear Savior, 

Who went from earth above. 
Many faithful missionaries 

To the continents go, 
And tell the sacred news, 

That of Christmas they may know. 
The holy word will make them happy, 

And point the heavenly way. 
Then they, like us, may also 

Enjoy the Christmas day. 
III. 
Christmas has come, 
'Tis t. merry day. 

73 



Bells are ringing, 
Children are singing, 
And all sorrow is driven away. 

Stores are closed. 

And business is stopped. 

At every meeting, 

There is greeting, 
And a merry Christmas dropped. 

If we can't give, 

Pleasant words we may say 
To all the pror, 
Who come to our door. 
And make them enjoy 
The Christmas day. 

Santa Claus will come 
As we believe, 

Bringing toys, 

To girls and boys, 
Which with joy will be received. 

How glad we are because 
Christmas is here. 
From father and mother, 
Sister and brother. 
The presents will come as every 

year. 
'Twas on this day 
That our Savior was born, 
There in the manger. 
Guarded from danger, 
He was found at early morn. 
He came to die 
Our lives to save, 
For our sins to atone, 
Without a moan 
His life he freely gave. 

74. 



TheD in his name 
Leud a helping hand, 

And with shouts of mirth 
The day of his birth 
Shall be hailed throughout the 

land. 
Of reading the story 
We will remember 
Of the gifts he received 
From those who believed 
On the twenty-fifth of December 
IV. 
"I don't believe dear papa knows," 

Blue-eyed Willie said, 
As he threw his arms around the neck 

Of his little brother, Ted. 
"You seel's two years older than you, 

And as long as I can remember, 
Santa Glaus never failed to come, 
Sometime near the last of Decem- 
ber. 
I heard papa telling mamma, 
This year Santa Olaus wouldn't 
come. 
Papa's wages would go still lower, 
He said while he cast their sum. 
What is that to do with Christmas, 

I'd just like to know. 
And keeping dear old Santa away, 

'Cause papa's wages are low." 
The boys stood silent for one moment, 

Then thoughtfully Teddy said, 
"If I could write like you can, 
I'd send him a letter, Fred." 
The boy who had mastered the primer. 
Full of self confidence grew ; 

75 



He felt he weight of importance 

For the many words he knew. 
There was ball, and candy and top, 

And wagon, and horse, and drum, 

"I shall just write a letter to Santa, 
And then I know he will come. 
You want a book, pencil and knife, 

Rubber doll, candies and kite. 
I will ask for these in my letter 

And send it by papa tonight." 
The toilsome task of the message, 

Tlie little hands did complete, 
And papa was asked to mail the letter, 

And carried it away to the .treet. 
Who can doubt that Santa received 

And faithful for each item did hunt. 
The babies hushed the plea of poor 
wages, 

Cliildren are never little but once. 

V. 

Pa used to believe in systems, 

And the governing of natural laws, 
He scorned the delusive idea 

Of liarboring a Santa Glaus; 
Until one Christmas morning, 

About two in the night. 
The nurse ratttled his chamber door, 

And bade him speed with the light. 
Santa Claus had truly come 

To convert pa if he could, 
For he was the only skeptical man, 

In the surrounding neighborhood. 
Old Santa had quietly slipped away, 

Ani left a wonderful toy. 
It wasn't china, rubber nor putty, 

Bat a bouncing baby boy. 

76 



Now, this Christmas pa decided 

To spend it by himself, 
What do you think Santa thought. 

My pa wanted with this elf. 
When I arose in the morning 

A merry Christmas I v\islied them 
all. 
Pa looked up and frowned at me 

And the baby began to squall. 

"'TIS the presents we need the most. 

That Santa is sure to bring 
"This looks like being alone," mut- 
tered pa. 

As the door bell began to ring. 
Since that Christmas morning 

Pa has not denied the fact, 
That down the chimney Old Santa 
Claus comes 

With presents on his back. 

VI. 

Chime ye ringing bells. 

Oh stir the thoughtless earth, 
Go ring the message around the world 

The news of our Savior's birth. 
Ring, ring ye merry Christmas bells, 

For the good tidings which ye bring, 
The bond may b« free for the Savior 
has come, 

The holy angels of heaven sing. 
The shepherds sought the city of 
David, 

Their presents to the cherub bring — 
God's angels hover over the manger. 

Merry Christmas bells, ring, ring. 

77 



The Truly Great. 

Before us are the great examples 
Of illustrious lives that lead to fame. 

And also are the samples 
Of thos?i who strove to gain a name. 

Often honors have been obtained 
By selfisli or ignoble strife, 

While worthiness has been disdained 
Because glory for power was rife. 

The monuments of marble only 
Are neither proof nor sign. 

For in many grave lonely 
A noble hero reclines. 

The reward is not always given, 
By those who dwell on earth. 

But the law that rules in heaven. 
Is of right instead cf birth. 

It is not the deed of heroic daring 
That marked the great alone, 

But it is those of noble bearing 
By which they may be known. 

Let the aim be always high, 
And the strife is truly great. 

There is reward for those who try 
If they only learn to wait. 

The baffling of our temptations 

More pleasure will create, 
Than the conquering of creation 

To the truly great. 

78 



MY TURN TO REQTE FIRST. 



Dialogue. 



(Enters first boy. )— "Gro ring the 
bells and fire the guns and fling the 
starry banner out, shout reedom till 
your lisping ones give back" — 

(Enters second boy, and interrupts.) 
— "You're mistaken; it is my turn to 
recite, young man. My name comes 
on the program first. ' ' 

First bov— "No, it don't." 

Second boy — "You go and sit down 
and wait until I get through. My 
piece is an oration like big folks 
speak. (Bowing) — "Up from the 
South at break of day, bringing to 
Winchester fresh dismay. The a- 
frighted air which the shudder bore, 
like a herald in haste to the chief- 
tain's door, with a terrible grumble 
and rumble and" — 

First boy, interrupting — "I know I 
come first. ' ' 

Second boy—-" You don't either.'' 

First boy — "I do too. You recite af- 
ter I do. (Bowing) — Go ring the bells 
and fire the guns and fling the" — 

Second boy — "1 want you to under- 

79 



stand that I recite first. (Bowing) — 
Up from the South at break of day, 
bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
the"— 

First boy — "You think you can 
down me, do you?" 
Second boy — "You interrupt me 
again and I will show you." 

(Both bowing and reciting together, 
first boy reciting — "Go ring the bells 
and fire the guns, and fling the starry 
banner out, Shout freedom till your 
lisping ones give back their cradle 
shout. ' ' 

Second boy reciting — "Up from the 
South at break ot day, bringing to 
Winchester fresh dismay, the a- 
frighted air which the shudder borp, 
like a herald in haste to the chieftan's 
door, with a terrible grumble ana 
rumble and roar telling the battle was 
on once more. " 

Both pause, look angrily at each 
other, wrestle a moment, then recite 
together the second time. Second boy, 
shaking his fist and pushing first boy 
— "I'll not stand any m^re of yoar 
foolishness. Bowing — Up from the 
South at break ot day, bringing to 
Winchester fresh dismay, the afright- 
ed air which the shudder boro" — 
Grasping first boy, who has been try- 
ing to hold his hand over the mouth 
of the second boy. In tne scuffle that 
follows, the second boy is seated upon 
the down form of the first boy who is 
trying to recite. Second boy hold- 



ing his hand over the mouth of the 
first boy, bows. (Exit both. ) 



Celebrating the Glorious Fourtb. 

From the meadow the robins are 
calling, 
The wild canaries are singing 
And in the elms along the lane 

The oriole nests are swinging. 
The grouse has ceased his hooting, 
The pine squirrel is resigned to 
fate ; 
For che Fourth of July in Morton's 
grove 
The country will celebrate. 

The scorching sun pours down, 

There is not a sign of rain, 
And the stores in the little village, 

Are hopeful of a holiday gain. 
A multitude has looked forward 

For the dawning of that joyous day, 
For the city will send an orator forth, 

And the city band will play. 

Men, women and children 

Their efforts all combine. 
Gather in the beautiful grove, 

To worship at freedom's shrine. 
Far away on Kingsberry's hill 

Where the lowing cattle graze, 
Thoughtless of our fathers' deeds, 

In revolution days. 

An explosion vibrates the air 
As if bombardment had commenced, 

81 



And the leader of the herd 

Marches toward the fence. 
Liberty's bell seemed to ring 

As on independence day. 
And forcing his weight against the 
fence 

The boards and wires gave way. 
Toward the celebration ground 

He leads the dairy band. 
And never pauses until he halts 

Before rlie speaker's stand. 
Durham's blood v^ras slow to wrath 

For Norton's grass was green, 
But waving o'er the orator's head 

The nation's flag was seen. 
Her midnight stars and asure blue 

Which lit the soldier's eye, 
Who salutes once more his country's 
flag 

An then swoons back to die. 
Her blood red stripes he also saw, 

And lower bowed his head, 
With a bellow deep and loud 

As if to awake the dead. 
Echoed then that awful roar 

Which Gettysburg once knew. 
When from the deadly canons mouth 

The balls and shells they flew. 
Confederate nor union guns 

Ne'er made a louder threat. 
Than from the raging animal 

The holiday beset. 
Heavenward the parson looks 

As if to implore some saint, 
And the ladies on the ground 

Try their best to faint 

82 



And swoon at some admirer's feet, 
Who in horrors stood aghast 

As when in that fearful day 
He'll hear the judgment blast. 

The orator's palpitating heart 

In terror of defeat. 
As nearer drew the enemy 

Like a huge base drum beat. 
He thought of liberty, independence 

And justice's goddess too. 
The wrong out balanced in her scales, 

Her sword was drawn he knew. 
England's parliment was never moved 

By eloquence more grand, 
Than that v;^hich issued from the lips. 

Of the orator on the stand. 
As he seized an awaiting rail 

And toward the beast did run. 
Said he "just catch him by the horns 

And hold him till I come. " 
Patrick Henry nor Webster, 

John Calhoun nor Clay, 
Never moved an audience 

With such a magic way. 
The band rallied the scattered notes 

And hurled them at the foe, 
For Trenton was captured Christmas 
night, 

By Washington you know. 
The gallant conquorer chased the 
enemy 

Which from the park did run, 
As real Putman chased the British 

From the field at Lexington. 
From daughter, mother, son and father 

His praise will never cease. 

83 



A representative in war, 

A magistrate in peace. 
The grown up man and little child, 

Of the hero's victory sang, 
And from the Chautauqua park to the 

cemetery, 
Election's bugle rang. 
His progress as in years gone by, 

No candidate oppose 
And triumphant to the mayor's throne. 

His majesty arose. 



. Francis E. Willard. 

Though vested with an immortal robe, 
Her fame has circumferenced the globe 
And for their restoration of the race, 
A work eternal on earth she placed. 
Organizing and establishing through- 
out the land. 
The Women's Christian Temperance 

band. 
In oneness attempting their efforts to 

bind 
To the glory of God, for the good of 

mankind. 
Francis E. Willard's name shall 

enhance, 
As through life she led the advance. 
Constant through the sisterhood, 
Acknowledge as universal in good. 
Learned, accomplished she upheld to 

the light. 
The verbial pictures she painted so 

bright. 
The affectionate stories that pointed 

the way, 

84 




FRANCES E. WILLARD 
Temperance 



In the hearts of her hearers are living 
today. 

The hand that comforts the mortals 
that weep, 

The fruits of their labor in eternity- 
reap. 

This advocate of temperance has gone 
on before, 

Yet t^e work she began with time 
only is o'er. 



A Mother's Handiwork. 

It was a mother's chosen device. 

To rear her daughter in ignorance of 

vice. 
In little Eshter one might trace 
Robust health and natural grace. 
She thus unacquainted with a world 

of sin, 
Was one whom devotion might easily 

win. 
Deceived in the laws of nature's art. 
By her parents conceiving ignorance 

a modest part, 
Oft over the mysteries of life would 

brood. 
Was by a traveling stranger woed. 
Overcome by ingenious fraud, 
She had consented to travel abroad. 
Just as the serpent beguiles at will 
With phantoms of pleasure the future 

to fill- 
He overcame the compliant mind 
Of Esther, the most trustful of women 

kind. 

85 



The knowledge was hidden with 

cautious care, 
Of his home in New York and his 

family there ; 
Of the social standing in which he 

prides, 
Of the church where he as a deacon 

presides. 
And his daughter, who like Esther, yet 

not so fair. 
In the sanctuary sings in the choir 

there. 
Seared was the conscience that could 

rest 
With this monstrous secret in his 

breast. 
The life was new and with pleasure 

filled. 
To Esther's weak and wayward will. 
The game of cards, the glass of wine, 
Companions that worship at Yenis' 

shrine ; 
Have wrought a hiram in sinfullness 

there. 
With King David can scarce compare. 
And in shame and vice more deeply 

bound 
Than ever polluted the English crown. 
Oh society, society ! Look at your feet. 
Count the cost of the pleasures you 

deem so sweet ! 

Soon these two on a foreign shore are 

found. 
And Esther is more closely to him 

bound, 
For the wedding that was promised 

it appears 

86 



Her usual pleadiDgs end iu tears. 

Annoying her companion he departed 
unbeknown, 

Leaving her to battle the world alone. 

Now in the great metropolitan city 
he passes, 

With the respected and honored 
classes. 

A Paris nurse rapped at the door 

As she had been bidden some weeks 
before ; 

The mother responded trembling and 
weak. 

But the language of France was unable 
te speak. 

The nurse saw that she was too late 
to stay 

The drug that was knawing her vitals 
away. 

Esther a few words of English spoke, 

Though not understood the senses 
awoke. 

Held forth a, paper with streaming 
tears, 

To be given to her child at account- 
able years. 

Then back to the cot where the little 
one lay, 

Calling on God she passed away. 

The nurse read the story of the com- 
mon thing, 

By a glance at the hand for the miss- 
ing ring. 

How plighted assurance had existed 
there 

Though the Priest had neglected read- 
ing his prayer. 

87 



How desertion in the hour of mortal 

needs 
And the reflection of darkening deeds 
Had mingled discouragement with 

wrath, 
And Esther traveled the suicidical 

path. 

Aunt Maggie. 

Holiday is near by 

And I should be delighted, 
To dine at our Auntie's 

'Though I've not been invited. 
You may call me rude. 

But I credit your abuse, 
To your not having an aunt Maggie 

As the excuse. 

At all other places 

I'm forced to wait 
For a formal invitation 

That comes up to date. 
Otherwise I'll intrude 

"Wheresoever I stray, 
And mar the bright pleasure 

Of the holiday. 
In this exceptional case 

Auntie would say, 
As she hastened to greet me 

In her gentle way. 
That she knew I'd be present. 

And bidding me see, 
That an extra dish 

Was made special for me. 
Those days have been gone 

Long in the past, 
But the scene is unchanging 

88 



In memory stedfast. 
I imagine [ inhale 

The savor so sweet, 
Look first in one direction 

Expecting a treat. 

Then turning again, 

I watch her prepare, 
Her dinner with her 

Usual exacting care. 
Over the fire the steak 

She would fry. 
Remove from the oven 

A nice mince pie. 

All kinds of vegetables 

Are a part of the fare. 
The turkey and cranberry sauce 

Are both there. 
The cakes and the cookies 

The doughnuts as well, 
All things imaginable 

Too many to tell. 
She superintends the dinner 

Each dish one by one. 
And all of the labor 

Is most cleverly done. 
With resting assurance 

I can always say. 
That it is impossible 

To get in Auntie's way. 
The table with luxuries 

Is now quickly spread. 
Assuring us all we shall 

Be immediately fed. 
The farm hath yielded 

Her produce there, 
Guarded by industrial 



And economical care. 
Proving the prophecy 

To be complete, 
That those who labor 

have a right to eat. 
In a moment or two 

The dinner is completed, 
And around the table 

The guests are seated. 
Not a lord or lady 

Or duke or duchess too, 
Would dare to do the many things 

That w^e delight to do. 
And a better dinner 

I know at any rate, 
And not half so good, 

I'm afraid they never ate. 
With no thoughts of wronging 

Our industrial neighbor. 
And we like drones be living 

From off his hard labor. 
We laugh and chat togetlier ; 

The careless things too we say 
Proves that life is more lowly 

Is the happiest way. 
Not a critical suspension 

Our appetite now lingers, 
But taking up a turkey bone, 

Just between our fingers 
Ravenously we knaw it 

'Tis but a beginner. 
Thus we do ample justice 

To our auntie's dinner. 
The good things go around and around, 

While sitting at the table, 
And we are compeied to eat 

As much as we are able. 

SO 



It has gone into the past, 

But in thought it is a balm, 
And through life's weary journey 

A criterion she shall be, 
Always the simple auntie, 

This party that you meet. 
In the church or parlor, 

The kitchen or the street. 
And I truly pity 

Whomsoever he might be, 
That never had an Aunt Maggie 

That he might go and see. 

A Cbieftan's Daughter. 

I am Chicatama, a chieftan's daughter, 

You know of the Sioux by their out- 
break and slaughter. 

The Appalachian system once v/as our 
home, 

But far from those hills we are now 
forced to roam. 

From ocean to ocean, o'er forest and 
field, 

The bear and the bison, the otter and 
seal. 

Ye know they are ours, 'til the in- 
truder came 

And his civilization banished our 
game. 

Who blames us because the pale face 
is slain, 

And we strive to recover the lost 
domain. 

Which one of you would submisively 
stand 

And see raiment and food forced out 
of the land. 

91 



Do you think you can curb the love in 

this breast, 
The Great Spirit placed there for the 

war and the chase? 
Shall we sit down underneath the oak, 
And the pipe of peace with the white 

man smoke? 

Read of Old Sitting Bull and learn 

of the rest, 
How Custer's bones still bleach in the 

West. 
And after tliat battle many warrior 

found. 
His bow and arrow in the happy 
hunting ground. 

We are called traitors when we leave 

the land, 
Of the stinted reservation marked out 

by your hand. 
And refuse to be fed by the v/hite 

man's bread 
Like a child from a spoon when its 

mother is dead. 

If the dead cold unfold deeds foul and 

mean, 
Just think of Pocahantas what she 

felt and seen. 
And many a warier to day for her 

sake. 
The treacherous pale face would burn 

at the stake. 
Don't think it our choice to exchang3 

for your care, 
The free born spirit of the mountain 

air. 

92 



Do your rations atone for the wrong 

you have done, 
No ! Hand the chief tan's heritage down 

to his son. 

When the victims shall cry for mercy 

and help, 
I will hold up the blood reaking scalp, 
and revenge is my cry when I think 

cf the land, 
From which we w^ere driven by the 

civilized man. 



Shot Upon His Coffin 

My little girl opened the door 

With her face all wreathed in smiles, 
"Oh mother dear here i? a telegram. 

Its from the Phillipine Isles." 
I hastly opend the message, 

And in a glance I read, — 
"By the time you know my story 

Dear mother I shall be dead". 

"I was tired and sick from marching, 

And as a sentinel I stood last night, 
My brain was turned by the heat. 

And the fever dimed my sight. 
This morning they tell me I slept 

And to suffer for such is my lot. 
Tomorrow upon my coifin, 

Blindfolded I shall be shot. " 
Trembling I staggered backward. 

Too deeply smitten to weep. 
With the thought of my only son. 

Over come with sickness and sleep. 
A pardon from the president, 

Wouuld reach the Isles too late. 
Should he condescend his intercession. 
To save my boy from his shameful fate. 



How I wished that his child hood body 

lu a coffin had been lain 
And he ne'er had reared to manhood, 

And aspired to relms of fame. 
All through college he stood the top- 
most, 

On the play ground, in the class; 
Few were they who were his equals, 

None were they who surpassed ; 
When the examination was over 

And he so proudly stood the test, 
All his classmates tliought him lionored 

More than any of tlie rest, 

With stories of patriots I have spured 
him, 

Their heroic ready manner, 
To uphold his country's laws, 

And her starry spangled banner. 
He sympathized with the rebellion 

Which arose in that near isle. 
When Cuba revolted first 

Against the Spaniards cruel and vile. 

His memorial denouncement I re- 
member 
Whose eloquence stirred a nations' 
feeling, 
When the cruiser's victims were shot 
iH the back, 
While close to the slaughter house 
kneeling. 
Yes ! My blood did almost stagnate 

As I strove with stifled tears, 
When the steamer pulled from Port- 
land 
With her Oregon volunteers. 
From the deck his farewell, 

94 



Proud and manly it was done, 
At the shrine of my country's alter, 

I had placed my only son, 
Strgguling thus with human weakness 

With every sign of an immotion 
I had given my precious child 

With a patriot's tre u devotion. 

Now earthly treasure that is dearest 

Is the object of mortal foe 
With cowardly taunts and exultations 

To goad upon my vital woe. 
When tiie gal nt troops returneth 

And the flag they proudly wave 
O'er the grave of their dead heros 

Then his sister too most suffer 
And in shame must leave tlieir sighs, 

For their soldier brother's body, 
Like a stricken traitor lies. 

Is it for crimes that I have done 
While this vale of woe I've trod, 

That his blood in condemnation 
Is before the judgment throne of God? 

Oould I but see thjse blue eyes 
sparkle, 

Lean upon his breast once more, — 
But his mangled corpse they'll bury 

On the Phil ipine Isle and shore. 
See him kneeling in his coffin ! 

Oh, his bosom streams with blood. 
From the ugly wound upon him 

Gushes forth a crimson flood. 
Is that the fatal volley, 

The noise that sounds so near, 
''Dear mamma cover me up" — 

'Tis my baby's voice I hear. 
Merciful Father of heaven, 

95 



Ungrateful though I maj seem, 
I thank thee with all my reasoning 

It was buc a fevered dream. 
And the Phillipine war is over 

And hostilities have ceased. 
Honored are our soldiers 

And the nation rests in peace. 
Nestling close beside me, 

I my precious baby boy 
Who may yet grow to manhood 

And be both pride and joy. 



Heppoer's Flood. 

We in mercy to the law of nature 

Yield to her smile or frown 
Today she bestows her sunlight 

As if it were a gem set crown. 
But look on the work of yesterday 

The rain and hail and mnd 
Have immerged the homes of many 

In Heppner's woeful flood. 
Before the cloud descended. 

And darkness hid the town 
A stronger mind might yield to fear 

Than that of Nettie Brown. 
In simple chillike trustfulness 

The refuge above all other 
She quickly seeks in danger's hour 

Shelter beside her mother. 
The roar of rain and hail 

The roof descends as well 
Was it a lightning stroke? 

No, it was a cloud that fell. 
Mother, daughter and little babe 

That lie resting in sweet sleep 

96 



Are borne on the rushing waters 
Amid the ruin's shapeless heap. 
Now, the relentless angry flood 

Is at the height of its wrath 
Mingling men, women and ciiildren 

In its wreck strewn path. 
In the seathing waters 

Little Nettie feels a grasp, 
'Tis her mother's Hand 

She struggles now to clasp. 
For just one moment only, 

Each clings unto the other. 
Then a rushing timber 

Parts them there forever. 
Oh, the anguish and lasting sorrow. 

No tongue can ever tell. 
Wrought by the disaster 

Heppner's cloud that fell. 
Among the first that were rescued 

Was little Nettie Brown, 
But her baby brother's body 

Has never yet been found. 
The little one and its mother, 

Together took its flight ; 
From the earthly regions of darkness, 

To the realms of heavenly light. 

Prompt to the call of sufferers, 
Was the response from far and near 

In the recovery of the lost ones. 
And in the debris to clear. 
Food and raiment and shelter 

Are given to supply the distressed 
And little Nettie Brown 

Is provided for among the rest. 

97 



Pegfgy [McCooster, the Old Maid. 
I am poor abused Peggy McCootser 

I used to be young and gay 
But now like all the^rest of old maids 

I'm overly cranky they say. 
Even my companions of childhood, 

Caring nought for my aching heart. 
Seem to delight in reminding me 

That beauty with youth depart. 
To see such dear friends gathered 
together 

Is a most beautiful sight 
And to teU'you my pitiful story 

Perhaps it isn't quite right, 
Yet I know I shall have your sympathy 

Though on your pleasure I cast a 
shade 
By relating the mournful circumstance 

That made me an old maid. 
Every one says 'tis remarkable 

How well I hold my youth — 
Fifty-two years on my coming 
birthday, 

You nan scarcely believe it the truth. 
At most all kinds of^labor, 

In life I've had my turn, 
And the very best of wages 

It is easy for me; to earn. 
My consecutive terms of school I've 
taught. 

Through mud, and sleet, and rain, 
In that sylvan district. 

Of hickory or bass wood lane, 
But now, I look back on life, 

'Tis failure through and through. 

98 



There are no completions of mine 
3ut what some one else could do. 
Preparations ;for my wedding wera 
once made 
Peter McCoy was my betrothed' s 
name. 
He was a burly Irishman, 
Bald headed, with gout he was lame. 
Bent over as one with labor would be, 
But this was not Peter's case 
He always stooped when walking 
Just to economise space. 
My motlier's word of wisdom, 
I repeat them in tears again 
"Dear Peggy your first may be your 
last chance. 
Pray for gra- .e to endure him then. ' ' 
And her words were truly "prophetical 
When she said "Peggy don't make 
fun 
You will see one day an offer like this 

Is very much better than none, ' ' 
Peter would feed my ma on candy, | 
And I like a bursted tomato would 
grin. 
And pa would call me in the kitchen 

And say "Peggy t'is such a sin, 
Tliis fellow from early childhood, 

With Midas hands is possessed. 
Whatever he touches turns into gold, 
Obey your father, child, and be 
blessed. " 
Oh, the thought of looking identity, 

By being tied to that man. 
He will tell me just what to do, 

I . 99 



Aud just how to think if he can. 
And there he sat in our parlor, 

Trying so nice to seem, 
Like the red headlight of danger 

His bald head did gleam. 
Father would s^y " 'tis no cau^e of 
mirth" 
Mother in arger grew loud. 
Don't laugh, daughter, at Peter's 
bald head, 
'Tis an emblem of whicli he is proud. 
The dreams failing to produce its crop 

Is blighted by the radient sheen 
Reflected from his intellectual brow, 
Which does with intelligence gleam. 
Almost every night at our house. 

My papa and Peter did chat 
They'd talk about loaning money 

And about this and that. 
Peter got so disgusting 

I so reckless I did not care 
And I just for an experiment 

Quickly upset his chair. 
His heels and his head came in 
collision, 
'Twas the finest circus I ever saw, 
And just like Newton's apple, 

He followed gravitation's law. 
Recovering equilibrium 

Just as quickly as he could, 
And with his red eyes flashing. 

He perpendicular stood. 
Says he, "Peggy McCooster 

I w^ant you to quickly decide. 
And right here in your father's 

100 



presence, 

Promise to be my bride." 
Father looked quite vicious, 

But I pleased him by naming the 
day, 
That at the hymeneal altar, 
[ I'd swear my life away. 
Pater's wrath quickly subsided, 

He seemed to enjoy the joke, 
But ah, poor me engaged to be married 

You'd thought my heart was broke. 
Preparations, now for the wedding, 

Were made up to latest date. 
My parents would get rid of their 
burden 

Before it was too. late. 
Soon we entered the little clmrch 

As the bride and groom. 
Rapidly the moments bore me along. 

Toward my waiting doom. 
Peter decorated by a big sunflower 

Emblematic of his happy state, 
Oh, that big awkward fellow, 

I could not help but hate. 
Down came a mellow apple 

On top of Peter's bald head. 
Then I snickered outright 

"Be serious" the parson said. 
With deep regrets I look back to that 
day 

How much better it would have been 
If only in good behavior, 

I'd just been married then. 
"By the ties of wedlock" the Par- 
son said 

101 



' ' Tis' no trifling thing to be bound. ' ' 
Mother I saw w as uneasy 

And shook her head and frowned. 
He read from the open Bible 

And said something about "all 
is well" 
And whether he read of Nebuchanezzar 

Or Nicodemus I can't tell. 

Then he turned to me and said, 

"Woman do you solemnly swear, 
That you will love, honor and obey, 

Your lord and master there." 
I saw the trap in a moment 

And freedom I quickly found. 
Out of the door I went 

With a hop, a skip and a bound. 

Over tlie barbwire fence, 

Quickly I was gone. 
And the deep duck pond I waded. 

With my white slippers on 
And that beautiful white silk dress. 

That my mother for me did get. 
And really I don't believe 

It has ever been paid for yet. 

Peter yelled "Peggy, come back, 
You are missing your very last 
chance," 
And the sacred truth he delivered, 

As you can see by a glance. 
Then a Scandinavian girl in the 
audience, 
Said "Oh ! it is such a disgrace, 
If Peter would only let me I'd gladly 
fill Peggie's place. " 

102 



Peter hearing her and said : 
"You are the proper one." 

The minister finished the other ou 
her 
That on me he had begun. 

In the most beautiful house in town, 
Mr. and Mrs. McCoy you will see, 
And it almost breakes my heart, 
When I think it might have been me. 
And my eyes svith tears are scalded, 

When Ithink I help make the match 
And count the little McCoys too, 

Thicker than mushrooms in a patch. 
Life may be hard for all. 

And heavily with sorrow laid 
But there is nothing quite so bad, 

As being compelled to be an old 
maid. 



The Little Heroine. 

Little Eva a beautiful child. 

Of twelve years old was she, 
Stood watching some children 

On the bridge, playing in merry glee. 
The tiresome noise of the citys din 

Had worried the maiden fair 
And she gently lolled on the mossy 
bank 

To braid her golden hair. 
The ducks lightly buoyed o'er the 
water, 

That reflected each sunny beam, 
And the clear bright sky above the lake 

In etheral blue was seen. 
"Just two hours," the children said 

* ' Until the train goes by. 

103 



We'll have time to go to the houes, 

And return before then if we try. ' ' 
A little babe of six months old 

Was left alone on the track 
And bade sit still upon the bridge 

Until the children came back. 
They were scarcely out of sight 

When Eva's heart began to flutter, 
She saw the train come 'roud the bend. 

And not one word could she utter. 
The puffing engine came rushing on 

In such rapid haste, 
Toward the spot where the little one 

Just one moment before was placed. 
No one but Eva was near enough 

To know the terribe fate. 
And if she should stop to give warning 

All efforts would be too late. 
She breathed a prayer to lier God 

Tlien by a resolute act, 
She ran upon tlie fatal bridge, 

For the train, it could not slack, 
By steady nerve and immortal strength 

In her arms the babe she grasped. 
"The only chance to save our lives, 

Is to swing from the bridge, she 
gasped. 
By one wild glance she spied a studen 

Upon which her feet could rest 
And down upon the pier she swung 

With the little one close to her 
breast. 
Those tiny arms around her neck, 

When her feet the studen touched, 
And a bar of iron, which she just 

104 



could reach 

With a vice 1 ite-grtitp she clutched 
There she was in that perilous place 

Holding her panting breath, 
Conscious of the chances she ran, 

In meeting a horrible death. 
O'er her rushed the maddened train 

Defying every brake. 
Below her the deep dark waters 

Of St. Croix's Lake. 
The heavy weight shook the bridge, 

As though it was very frail. 
And every moment it seemed to Eva 
As though her strength would fail. 
As firm as rock was the steady nerve 

Of the heroine inspired. 
And the gathering crowd sent shouts 
ot joy 

To the maid whom all admired. 
No sooner had the train gone by 

Than a boat came sailing near, 
To rescue Eva and the babe. 

Who were now trembling with fear. 
The swathy hand of a sturd yman 

From the pier lifted the maid. 
And on the bottom of the deck, 

Her fainting form they laid. 
A ghastly look came over her face, 

Then heaved her little breast, 
One struggle for anotlier breath, 

And she sank to rest. 
The exertion was too much for her. 

The generous spirit had fled. 
And many gathered upon the boat, 

105 



Where tlie little maid lies dead. 
la the beautiful city cemetery, 

One sepulcher stuuds alone 
And near it this epitaph is written, 

Upon a magnificent stone. 
"This monument was erected, 

To mark the sacred grave, 
Where the corpse of little Eva lies, 

One of the heroes brave. ' ' 
When all of this fine marble, 

Shall have mouldered and crumbled 
away 
The generous deed of Eva, 

Sliall be as fresh as today. 
The cooing doves proclaim it, 

The wind softly sighs, 
It sliall never be forgotten, 

'Til mortal memory dies. 



Why Katie McFinnigfan is a Widow 
Today. 

Just thirty years ago it is today, 

Since Michel Finnigan came this way. 

It was one Sunday just about noon. 

Pa, ma and the parson were coming 
home soon. 

My ! what for a dinner my ma could 
make. 

The goose, the dumplings, the pies 
and the cake 

Then quick I heard a noise on the floor 

And turning around there stood a man 
by the door. 

And he said : ' ' Good Lady I am al- 
most dead 

106 



starving I am for a piece of bread. 
I tried hard all day long and no work 

could I find, 
And just for some dinner if you'll be 

so kind. " 
Then [ gives him the very best that 

were got 
I tells my ma the parson I thought 
When it was all over my ma didn't 

care. 
She said good Proviendce mnst have 

sent him there. 

Tlien he sat down to the table and 

ate 
Soon he says "What is your name?" 

I said "it is Kate. " 
Then he said "O Katie, my dear, 

bless your sweet life, 
It's Michael McFlinnigan wants you 

for his wife. 
What for a chance, and my very first 

one. 
This was to get married a.nd that so 

soon. 
When pa, ma and the parson come I 

cant' say, 
But I was Mrs. McFlinnigan before 

the end of that day. 

Now fourteen children we have just 

the same 
And a daughter that married O'Brien 

by name. 
There is Johnnie and .Timmie, and 

Barnie and Pete, 
And wee lirtle Mikie, oh he is so 

107 



sweet 
But the girls are freckled, red lieaded 

like their dad as you see, 
And not one of them there that is 

handsome like me. 
All the years I've worked hard to 

keep them in bread. 
With shoes on their feet and hats on 

their heads 
And all of this time Mike he would 

tell 
Of the days that were coming when 

he'd make a pile 
Of the towns he would own and rail- 
roads he'd buy 
And the castles he'd build clear up to 

the sky 
And if I'd patiently wait and see, 
The President in the White House 

some day he'd be. 
But as for work — it wasn't in Mike, 
I never could get him to do one lick. 
When I came out of the field today. 
There he sat smoking and reading 

away, 
Says I "Now Mike and you hoot for 

the barn. 
Or faith, and you'll wish you'd never 

been born. " 
And not since we've been husband 

and wife 
Did Mike ever move so fast in his life. 
He seemed to know right by the 

white of my eye 
The best thing he could do was to fly 

108 



Aud the brick that I warm and put 

under the bread 
I just let it fly right square at his 

head, 
And the stove lid I threw at his 

back 
Went through the door with a ter- 
rible crack. 
I turned around to my eldest son Pat 
He looked just lik'e his dad and I 

liked him for that, 
I said to the rest, "If you open your 

head, 
Yu'U pile in a heap there under the 

bed." 
I get awful mad and don't let it out, 
But this time for sure I just had to 

spout. 

Then some one says: "Katie, dear, 

dont' you love your poor Mike, 
And havent' you any mercy when he 

is sick, 
I've a cramp in my back and a fever 

in my head, 
And a pain in my side and I must go 

to bed. 
And Katie, dear Katie, oh! you are 

so good. 
If you just get a little supper and 
split a little wood. ' ' 
I hikes out of the window as soft as 

I can 
And creeps around the house with the 

mop in my hand 

109 



But sure and I think he is onto the 

sound 
For quick and he clears the gate with 

a bound 
A nd off for the barn vve race like deer 
I tried awful hard, but I couldn't get 

near 
He scares the wits ont of my old beast 

of a cow, 
And just like a cat he goes into the 

mow. 

Said X, "Now Michael, a clmuge 

there'll be 
You'll out in the field and you'll work 

with me, 
You'll dig the potatoes,, you wnll 

hoe in tlie corn 
You'll feed the chickens .and pigs 

every night and morn 
And if you an't oat of bed before 

ten, — 
I'll have a divorce and get mnrried 

again. ' ' 

Tlien he said "Katie, dear Katie, I 

am tired of my life 
When I think I have got such a cruel 

wife." 
And a strap that's made fast awsy 

up in the mow 
He puts it around his neck and some 

how 
And just as I gives the board a wee tip 
And into the air my Mike he slips 
And the rest is painful and sad. 

110 



When I think I could have been so 

crael and bad 
Now all the flowers I can save 
1 carry them out and put on Mike's 

grave 
And that is exactly precisely the way 
That Katie McFlinnigan is a widow 

today. 

Fritz in the Hop Yard. 

Theodore Zederman wrote a letter and 

said 
"Or ne work in my hop yard my dear 

Fred" 
Says he "there's no use of your be- 
ing poor 
When two piles of money and five 

pounds more 
You can make if you work tor me 
So if you have eyes just use them to 

see, 
This generous offer I make to you 
For the best of wages with little to 

do, 
For the pulling of poles, and measur- 
ing hops, 
The raising of wires and letting down 

props. ' ' 

Now when the Great Eastern left 

Liverpool, 
For America Fritz was was eager to go 
For the wonderful land of corn and 

wine, 
Where gold can easily earn or find, 
One week he got the letter no more 

111 



He stood at Theodore Zederniau's door. 
The bargain was made what Teddy 

should pay 
For easy work Fritz awaited the day. 
His task begau with little to do, 
His first day was his last one too. 
A pretty young girl whispered and 

said, 
"What is your name" Fritz answered 

"tis Fred." 
She says, "now Fredrick now ion't 

go away, 
But sit on the hopper and pick hops 

while you stay. " 
Fritz was scarcely seated when a 
crippled old man 
Said "liere now give me a lift if 
you can. 
Quick to his feet and ready to go 
When a voice rang out "hopper moved 

ne is slow. ' ' 
Said another "don't keep me waiting 

a year. 
Now, for to measure, come right 

along here. ' ' 
Fritz, over his shoulder his eyes he 

did roll 
When Mother Jones' voice rang out 
"Hop-pole, hop-pole, hop-pole, Fritz 

what are yDu about," 
In every direction a voice rang out. 
Fritz started backward as he'd been 

taught 
To wait on the ladies first as he ought. 

112 



•"Wire up" says one, **wire down I 

say, 
* * Hurry up, Fritz, and come this way, ' ' 
"'Measure, hop- pole" in a chorus 

rang out. 
Some of them scold and others they 

shout. 
Then the boss says, *Tritz, why stand 

like a dunce. 
Can't you move in forty directions 

at once. 
Fetch on some sacks through the 

wire, as you 
Empty the box, and don't be so slow. 
Move up that hopper, and hold up 

the props. 
Dump that basket and pick up those 

hops." 
Fritz started forward then turning 

around 
Caught his foot in a vine and fell to 

the ground. 
He quickly rolled over, then standing 

upright 
With doubled up fist he was ready 

to fight. 
Says he ** Theodore Zedermon, I owe 

to you, 
This wonderful job with nothing to do, 
And if ever again you strike such a 

snap. 
Pass it down the line to some other 

chap. 
I want no more of your hop yard here, 

113 



I'll take my hops in a glass of beer; 

And in Fatherland, I'll live where 

There is plenty of work. I am going 
back there." 

And whosoever picks hops will un- 
derstand why 

Fritz bade us an everlasting goodby. 

Crushed By Mighty Words. 

Play for children. 

Lady, and colored expressman 
carrying parcel, enter the stage. 

Sambo, ( colored expressman ) : " Say 
Missa if yu dun say ober a few big 
words ober to me on de way down to 
de depot dis ere old man will be ex- 
tremely disobliged to yu. " 

Lady: "How big words do you 
want Sambo?" 

Sambo: "Can't get 'em too big 
Missa," (measuring with his hands 
as on the largeness of the words) "Ize 
a powerfulhand for remembering big 
words and getting dem off when a 
calamtous occasion predominates. 
Spell em out right now Missa, and 
dis old nigger won't forget you when 
watermellon season comes round 
again." 

Lady: "You don't expect to find 
use forthem this morning do you?" 

Sambo: "I reckon I does. My son 
Abraham works down to de depot 
and wheneber I comes round he tries 

114 



to sliow off ober me and makes me 
feel smalJ. " (Measuring with his 
hands a small distance from the floor. ) 
"He will try it on for sore dis very 
morning and I just want to be done 
fixed to paralyse his desirability." 

Lady: "Well, come along Sambo 
and don't let me miss the trani and 
I'll give you a choice assortment of 
Websters vocabrlaric curiosities." 

Exit — Sambo carrying parcels. 

Enter second colored boy, Abraham, 
swinging a switch and looking as if 
exi)ecting some one. 

Sambo enters, carrying parcels. 

Abraham, waving switch, "Hi! 
oh! dar old man, han't I done told 
you these fonr hundred times not to 
stacousate that stupendous old vehicle 
in the way of the omnibuses? Some 
old niggers have no more consang- 
uinity of rectitude than a squash." 

Sambo, setting parcels down and 
looking up defiantly: "Was you 
dun spoken to me sir. " 

Abraham: "Corse I was, nigger." 

Sambo, with gesture, while Abra- 
ham catches his breath at each ex- 
postulation: "Den I vant you to 
distinctly understand dat when de 
cooperation of imperialism seem to as- 
sumulate a disreputable infringment 
on hereditary avaraciousness I will 
retract my individualty — not before. 

115 



Sir, not before, sir. " 

Abraham, st«*ggering and droppinj^r 
his switch: "By George Washington 
things are getting so mixed up that 
for certain I don't know whether I'm 
his son or he is my father. *' 

Sambo, motioning to the parcels, 
and picking up Abraham's switch : 
*'Den catch hold here Abraham and 
elevate these accumulated miscellane- 
ous arti'-les and never again, my son, 
let your aristocratic proclivities pre- 
dominate ober your venerated ances- 
tors. " 

Exit Abraham carrying parcels and 
Sambo swinging the switch. 

Bird Life. 

Five little ones huddled together 

Guarded with care by father and 
mother, 

At the slightest noise there opened 
to be fed 

Five little mouths of the brightest 
red. 

Day by day they rapidly grew. 

Sorrow and care they never knew. 

God's goodness predominated the air, 

And nature's perfections were every- 
where. 

When papa in the evening sang some- 
times, 

His songs seem sweeter than vesper 
chimes, 

116 



And mamnaa's warbles so soft they 

seem, 
Like the angel bird of a fairy dream. 
But alas ! One day a man passed by 
And with his steady aim and eye 
Mamma fell at the terrible blow. 
And our lot was changed from weal 

to woe. 

Five little birds lacked for care, 
And papa's screams echoed through 

the air. 
Next morn the nest was a pitif al sight, 
For four little birds had died that 

night. 

One survived the truth to find. 

With as keen a sense as the human 

mind, 
That man's destruction of birds will 

make 
And wreck their homes for fashion's 

sake. 
The remaining bird, that was now 

full grown. 
In quest of food from its nest hap 

flown, 
And startling, paused in its aerial flight 
For his mother's plumage met his 

sight. 
Going home from church that day, 
Was a lady clad in costly array. 
The crime of paint on her hands and 

face 
Might adorn a warrior of the savage 

117 



race. 
On the hat of this lady that seemecS 

so fair 
Tlie stuffed mother bird was erected 

there 
Her glassy eyes glared from under the 

crest 
Her little one chilled and died in the 

nest. 
Why do women create the fashion 
Of wearing these plumes of a heathen- 
ish fashion, 
And making the world desolate far 

and near, 
By the millions of birds slaughtered 

each year. 
Oh! that the Great Creator's art, 
Should be so lacking in any part. 
That his deficiency should demand 
Women to rob the sea and land. 



The Union is All Right. 

Be true to the Union wherever you 

oam, 

And you'll be true to your country, 

Your God and your home. 

Say just what you mean, 

Then do as you say 

And united as brothers we are sure of 

the day. 

My grandfather came from across the 

sea, 
Where they never heard of union and 

harmony 

118 



Where every man was in for himself 
as you know. 

On that " Green Isle"" where the mur- 
phies grow" 

And when they once listended to free- 
dom's call 

Old England, she had it in for them 

all. 

Grandmother was an advocate of peace 

John Quincy Adams, eldest neice, 

Kind, good, handsome and neat 

And for tidiness could not be beat. 

Just like the Union girls of today. 

Admired by all in the same way. 

When we moved upon the hill 

Grandfather worked at the woolen 
mill. 

Just at the time when it '^ stood in 
hand^' 

For the Union men to make a stand. 

Grandafther says "You dont' get m« 
in, 

But hurrah for Old Ireland and th« 
side that will win, 

I'm on the fence to see the fun, 

If things get too hot, I'm ready to 
run 

Then next year I'll be boss at the 
mill 

And the proprietors will remember me 
in their \^11. " 

Then grandmother looked as if she had 
soured 

And turned and called grandpa a 

119 



coward. 
Said Bhe "If Lincoln had lived their 

cause to plead 
He would have bid the Union God 

speed. 

Kind and generous and just to all 
Responsive to his country's call; 
A man not afraid of his word nor his 

work 
And never a duty was known to shirk, 
Just like the Union men gf today 
And upheld the laborer in the same 

way. 

And the Union girls are the proper 

kind 
True and pure as you will ever find, 
With a soul to do and a will to dare. 
And joyfully in the labor share." 
I was peeping in throagli a crack 
And heard my grandfather say he'd 

take it all back. 
Said he, '"The Union is all very fine 
As sure as BoDypart crossed the 

Rhine 
And the Union folks they can't be 

beat. 
Please mam, let me get onto my feet, 
And never again from my lips shall 

be heard 
Against the Union another word." 

Then grandfather came to where I was 

hid 
And made an apologj , so that he did. 

120 



Says he "'yon was born on St. Pat- 
rick's day 
And I'm in for having you on the 

right way 
And whither, or not, yoa work at the 

mill, 
Yon'll belong to the Union, so that 

you will. 
Then I'll be great and good as I can, 
And join the Union when Pm a man 
Then VU be sure of a happy life 
If I just get a Union girl for my wife. " 

Artisian Assembly. 

(Special. ) 

There is a land, the saints all tell ns, 

Where genial fellowship rules the heart 

And our mothers bade us seek that 
realm 

Where the faithful never part. 

I have a brother both great and good. 

And not mnay years ago 

To ward off fate against wife and babe 

He joined the **Red Cross" you know. 

Let me tell you now that this is a 
secret 

I promised so faithfully I'd never dis- 
close 

The name of the order I never have 
told it 

Just you and I and no one else knows. 

So pledge on your honor, I know I 
can trust you, 

No one word of which you ever will 

121 



tell 
'Tis peculiar to me how women are 

gifted 
In keeping their secrets so well. 

A banker, a merchant, a lawyer all 

three, 
Advised him but one thing to do, 
To unite witli their order and wander 

no farther 
And sliare with their friends tried 

and true. 
But as good intermingling with the 

evils directed 
He shunned all society, until at last 
Vouchsafe for himself and his family 
You will find for him as one of your 

members steadfast. 

And now he will tell you for uplift- 
ing manliood 

For fellowship genial, noble and 
true. 

Seek the place where destiny led him 

For tliat is an order that will never 

break through. 

So let us profit by his example 
Trusting not tlie outer world for pity 
But send in your application card 
To the Artisan Assembly of Oregon 

City. 
In the assembly where all is love 
A record of^our work liere below. 
With a golden pen is kept you know 
By the white winged secretary above. 

122 



As soon as on the armor girds 
The critical world he mast mand 
Proving the Artisan pledge to stand 
For more than a bable of words. 
There's labor for each individual one, 
Conscious of my vows shall I 
Ignore my task, and passing by 
Leave duty still undone? 

Where is he, who, with toil is im- 
pressed, 

Then is it loyal to wait and see, 

If another will visit the sick for me, 

And believe I merit the reward of 
the blest. 

Other examples from memory may 
fade, 

But Elazerath at the gate. 

With the rich man in state, 

Immortal the vision is made. 

In daily life we are made the better, 

As in the darkening hour, 

We feel the eternal power. 

That can sever each earthly fetter. 

Immutable law of heaven ! 

Divine Master Artisan by Thee 

Author of fealty 

Our perfect example is given. 

Wealth in rapidity vanishes away, 

Doomed to oblivion, dust and decay 

But principles are as eternal as the sun 

And impressed from childhood one 
by one. 

123 



The Jealous Wife. 
You often tell me that I am cruel 
And that Josiah is abused. 
But now listen one moment, 
And I'll break you the latest news. 
Blessed the mortals 
That through life may go 
Without having experienced 
Love's passionate flow. 
With increasing disgust 
I recall the mistake of mine 
How in my love blind weakness 
I knelt at an earthly shrine. 
I know I'm not handsome^ like Josiah 
And twenty years older than he. 
I used to be a loving wife. 
Kind and gentle as could be. 
This hypocritical story 
To me Josiah would often tell, 
For a woman to control the finance 
He argued, didn't look well. 
All who knew it said I was foolish 
When on my wedding day 
I drew a check on the First National 

Bank 
And signed five thousand dollars away. 
Oh! the flattery and blarney that 

followed 
And I took it all down at once. 
But we'd not been married one week 
When I saw I'd been made a dunce. 
I eagerly think of that day 
What a blunder I made I can see. 
I wonder if love ever made such a goose 

124 



Of any one else but me. 

My friends in my face would laugh 

And say, "for yon Josiah doesn't care 

Oh ! Florence Mariah, 'tis only the gold 

That is the attraction there." 

On his deceptive word I placed my 

hope, 
Though the truth I plainly saw, 
I grappled at each delusive fate, 
Like a drowning man at a straw. 
Now to my face the facts lie'd express 
More and more miserable I grew each 

day. 
Trustful and patient, obedient and 

faithful, 
One year and three months wore away. 
When across my path came this final 

letter, 
A ridiculous thing as you &ee 
Addressing Josiah in affectionate terms 
And me, his wife, as the infiintive 

she. 
With a Miss Sarah Oatinjamer. 
Josiah had fajlen in love, 
And they had been corresponding 
As named in the letter above. 
Vindictive, unmerciful, relentless, 
Day by day excited I grew. 
Love turned to revenge is the bitter- 
est thing 
That mortal on earth ever knew. 
Josiah seem to delight 
In destroying the harmonious path 
But I was determined to make him 

125 



feel 
Tlie depth of a woman '^s wratlr. 
A spell took me of a sadden, 
Just trust me for being sick, 
And I sent for my husband to come 
And bricg tlie doctor quick. 
The physician he brought was a cau- 
tion 
For, by profession he stood 
As one who would increase his trade 
In every way that he could 
When he came to doctor the well. 
He prepared them for the hurse 
And when he cured the sick 
He always made them worse. 
As soon as I saw him coming 
I began to moan, 
But I kept near the window 
So tiiey could hear each groan. 
There was the noted physician 
To keep me from getting worse 
And Sally, the author of that letter, 
Josiah brought home for a nurse. 
They all came rushing in 
The hired girl leading the way, 
It could be plainly seen 
She thought she'd come to stay. 
Josiah placed his arms around me 
And said, "Oh ! my dear little wife. '* 
Twas the first time he'd said such a 

thing 
In all of our wedded life. 
To be called little dear 
126 



How pretty it truly did soand, 

Btu Josiah woaldu't thought of it 

If Sally hadn't been around. 

You can plainly see what prospects 

They both had in view. 

Oh ! how I wanted to chuckle 

But of course that wouldn't do. 

And just think, he kissed me. 

Then pretended to cry.; 

I carefully peeped to see 

And there wasn't a tear in his eye. 

As spasm I quickly had 

Up to the latest date. 

And they lay nae back on the pillow 

In a very critical state. 

Their medicine they had for me 

But as soon as t'^e doctor turned about 

1 filled the bottle with water 

After dumping the mixture out. 

They poured it into a teaspoon 

And gave it to me with care 

I suppose they tliought it was poison 

Carefully compounded there. 

Sally, that audacious creature. 

All over the house did walk 

One would have thought her the 

mistress 
To liave heard her talk. 
When Josiah came home at night 
He was overly good. 
He thoughtfully carried the water 
And split every stick of the wood. 
He didn't complain as usual 
Not one cross word did he say 

127 



About how bad he felt 

And how hard he worked that day. 

And as they sat at the table 

Josiah was so polite. 

How nice he waited on Sally 

He thought I was oat of sight. 

You can't make me believe 'twas 

wicked 
Nor what I did was a sin. 
I carefully peeped thrugh the keyhole 
And took the performance in. 
Josiah complimented her looks 
And told her she was fair, 
B elieving I eagerly longed 
To have them both by the hair. 
The scripture strictly command us 
Evil not to know, 
And I suppose it is the happiest 
Way through life to go. 
It has been my experience, 
Let me tell you this, 
That tliose who look for evil 
Will find it without amiss. 
Josiah said che supper was excellent 
The house was as tidy as could be ; 
How often he'd wished his wife 
Was a good cook like she. 
Then that villianous fellow 
Went so far as to say 
That her biscuits were the best 
He'd eaten in many a day. 
As his praises expanded, 
I couldn't stand any more 
I trembled every moment 

128 



Fearing IM break through the door. 

I quickly sprang into bed 

And gave a terrible groan 

Au:i after a choking cough 

I finish with a hideous moan. 

Do you think I'd die to please them? 

Perhaps it isn't right 

But my sole life's object 

Is just to live for spite. 

Afl Old Man's Honey. 

Just have an insurance upon your 

life 
When you think of the greyhaired 

man with his wife 
Who enter the ball with a feeble 

tread. 
Along with the baby he has wed. 
They rivet the center of attraction 

there 
By standing still for a moment to 

stare 
Awkwardly whirling as if in a trance, 
Retreating like one in St. Vitus dance, 
They hop around there in mid air 
And bump against each dancing pair. 
Plunging forward, as if it all cost, 
Together, to gather the notes they 

had lost. 
A look o'er the female face aoes stray 
And in hope of conquest glides away 
While wistful glances haunt some spot 
But alas! it is a forbbidden lot; 
And more acute is her present state 
She blushing consigns herself to fate. 

129 



A smile goes around for the greyheadj. 
That had better adopted than to 

have wed, 
And for love of renown will not for- 
feit his place 
To one that might fill it with natural 

grace. 
What heart would not be sadly riven 
To think such matches were made in 

heaven. 
The old and young now passing seem 
Like the clipping of some fairy dream. 
Turning again to see him there. 
This aged man with his gray hair, 
And tottering steps with an infant 

child. 
Turning again we throttle a smile 
And ponder over the proverb given 
"Earth's whitest points are nearest 

heaven. " 
Seldom if ever doth appear 
The trio that is blended here 
Of age and beauty and of bliss. 
Oh, what a wonderous mixture this, 
For the aged heart is not wrung 
With the excuses it bears for the young. 
'Tis natural enough to be lovers of 

money 
But excuse us all from an old man's 

honey. 

Carrie Nation in Our Town. 

It seemed to go with lightning speed, 
The ringing of doorbells and spread- 

130 



ing the plans, 
The message was echoed far and near. 
And the evening papers reported tlie 

same, 

A party in the Weinhard parlor sat 
Playing cards and supped their ale. 
Says Brown 'On tlie eight fifteen 

tomorrow 
Carrie Nation will be here without 

fail. '^ 
Was the very same Judge Brown you 

know 
That bonght a poodle dog on Christ- 
mas day, 
So when he got so full he couldn't 

get home, 
His wife wouldn't miss him when he 

stayed away. 
"Have you heard the wonderful 

news?" 
Said Mrs. A. as she called to Mrs. B. 
*' Tomorrow Carrie Nation will be 

in our town" 
And they ; both ran together to tell 

Mrs. C. 
The Bartender said, in the saloon on 

the corner. 
As he held up the paper and turned 

around, 
** We'll be on the lookout tomorrow 
For my best girl is coming to town. " 
The doctor, that baldheaded pirate, 
Leaned over the bar and tipped his 



131 



A physician by name and a murderer 
by practice, 

Winked his eye, and these compli- 
ments passed : 

•'Here is health to you and your pros- 
perous trade 

And Carrie Nation and her little 
hatchet. 

Let her tomorrow do the worst she is 
able, 

I trust, my friend, you are all able to 
match it." 

Next morning before the arrival of 
the train 

What a consternation took place. 

The eyes that were eager to get a 
glimpse 

Of that desperate effiminatical face. 

The blacksmith, butcher, baker and 
merchant, 

All were awaiting Carrie to meet. 

The lawyer, mechanic, priest, parson, 
saloonist. 

And even the farmer helped to block 
up the street. 

Carry did come and the first thing she 
said: 

•'For an interview with the Gov- 
ernor will I have a show?" 

"He's at the Capital of the state," 
a small boy said 

"Where the criminals and idiots all 

go." 
Then she called for the mayor, but 

132 



no response 
Being duly warned of the eventful 

day, 
More quickly than usual he swallowed 

his breakfast 
And now he was cautiously hidden 

away. 

Immediately in the courthouse she 
found him, 

And laying hold of the mayor like 
this : 

By the ear, she walked him into the 
street, 

Explaining every word with an em- 
phatical twist. 

Says Carrie: "Prohibition is pro- 
claimed through the land 

So gather your dear little herd. 

Don't you dare to disobey my command 

Before I leave I shall speak a tem- 
perance word. ' ' 

The mayor grappled his hat with one 
hand. 

Trembling in his boots and shaking 
with fear. 

Says he "Dear madam, I will if I 
can." 

And with one final twist liberated 
his ear. 

"I've an engagement, excuse me, 
please do, 

Time is very precious," he said. 

With coat tails a flopping he ran down 
the street 

133 



Like an arrow around the corner he 

sped. 
How they laughed when Carrie in- 
quired, 
If the reprobate court was in session 

there 
And down it came on the unlucky 

head, 
The u nbrella she elevated in air. 
She rampaged the court house through 

and through 
Preaching as much as she was able, 
And the county judge but saved his 

neck, 
By hiding clear under the table. 
Carrie next came to a cigar stand. 
Says she: "I bring you this news. 
With soap and water the mouth must 

be washed 
Of whomsovever tobacco will use." 
She next climbed a flight of steps 
And opened the door of a chamber 

there. 
The lawyer said ''What can I do for 

you dear?" 
Now assuming his pretty air. 
Said Carrie "Now to confess, I come ; 
I am hunting for a temperance man 
And if you want me to reform your 

town 
And wish to help me I know you 

can. ' ' 
Into his reading room the lawyer 

ran 

134 



As he heard these words in fright. 
He cored his breath of its liquor taint 
And put glasses and bottles out of 

sight, 
Then he turned to his prohibitional 

saint 
Says he "The sheriff you'll meet, 
And just like me he is a temperance 

man. 
You'll find him down the street." 
As Carry stepped back to the head of 

the stair, 
How his eyes with mirth did gleam, 
And he chuckled as soon as he shut 

the door 
And from the window watched his 

scheme. 
The dignified Senator she next met 
Who cautiously made his bow, 
And unsuccessfully tried to turn aside 
But Carrie had him buttonholed now. 
"The saloons in town must all be 

closed. 
My petition I want you to hear. " 
He seemed somehow to refuse her re- 
quest. 
And Carry just boxed his ear. 
Before the eventful day was brought 

to a close 
There was an organized band, 
All the women in the town were ready 
To help Carry reform the land. 
With pitchforks, hatchets and cleavers 
They were now ready to fight. 

135 



Every saloou in town would be leveled 
"They'd annihilate the wrong and 

preserve the right." 
Just at noon she was mustering her 

forces 
And darkness struck the town 
And when the sun returned its glit- 
tering beams 
Carrie was nowhere to be found. 



Mrs. Coon to the Rescue. 

There is a two story house, once 

painted brown 
With a high board fence erected all 

around. 
From the main street you can gaze 

inside 
Where Bartholomew Coons and his 

family preside. 
Mr. Coons is a man of dignified air 
And to enter the clergy once did 

prepare, 
But the laws of religion were too 

binding and strict 
And with his disposition did often 

conflict. 
When free silver was at the height of 

its boom 
He entered tlie bar and improving the 

room 
By denouncing Mark Hanna, he 

quickly began 
To uphold the supporters of sixteen to 

one. 

136 



Before Cleveland returned from col 

storage once more, 
Or Bryan was npset on the political 

shaft. 
Now the nps and downs of his neigh- 
bor's affairs 
He watched with most uncommon 

care. 
A fraternal member he bore the name 
And did ample credit to the same, 
Binding in obligation every one 
By the small kindness he had done. 
Yet rejoicing to see a beginning strife 
For to him it meant a prosperous life, 
Until he found he was ground and 

couldn't climb farther. 
Fearing a fall decided to retire, 
But this is more easily said than done, 
He made several attempts but no last- 
ing one. 
To mind his own affairs he unsuccess- 
fully tried 
And had he succeeded he surelv would 

have died. 
Mrs. Coon had been born in the Wol- 
verine state 
And must have accomplished wonders 

both good and great 
For her husbands short comings made 

repairs 
By a strict adherence to her own 
affairs. 

The only one to overcome the fault 
Since Lot's wife was turned to a 

137 



pillar of salt. 
By investigation the truth you'll find. 
Was in her being both deaf, dumb and 

blind. 



The Western Wilds. 

From Helena, Montana 

One hundred eighty miles 

In spite of the scattered ranches, 

It bears the name of the wilds 

From tlie fertile valley 

The Indians were driven by the whites. 

Yet from underneath the sagebrush 

The Indian asserts his rights. 

Whenever lone herdsman 

Or hunter chances to spy, 

The crack of his ready rifle 

Tells that he is nigh. 

The mounds of sand are intercepted 

By sage brush alone 

Only in the valley 

That vegetation is grown. 

The happy cowboy now whistles 

His familiar tunes 

Arrayed with his sombrero 

And leather pantaloons. 

Unrestricted and daring 

Or quarrelsome he may be 

Reckless is his nature 

Uncurbed in liberty. 

Himself like the Indian 

He fantastically adorns. 

The lariet swings 

And descends o'er the horns 

138 



Of the wild steer 

That now does his best 

And the steed and the rider 

Are brought out to a test. 

The round up dny 

Makes a general change, 

When the cattle are driven 

Prom off the range to avoid a stampede. 

They earnestly strive 

The young ones into 

The coral they drive. 

The hissing hot iron 

They quickly prepare 

The initial of the owner 

Is now branded there. 

The animal is mastered 

In the following strife 

And must wear the mark 

For the rest of liis life. 

The cowboy's attraction 

Does chiefly consist 

In hardships unnumbered 

And dangers that exist. 

When in dispute and anger 

His opponent he assails 

Quarrelsome lawlessness 

Often prevails. 

Mt. Hood. 

Mt. Hood has worn for ages unknown 
Her queenly robe on her majestic 

throne. 
Seed time and harvest may come and 

may go, 

139 



And this primeval goddesb from her 
eternal snow 

A smile of contentment o'er the valley- 
does cast 

Through summers bright sunshine and 
winters fierce blasts 

Ranier, Adams, Jefferson, St. Helens 
companion slopes stand 

As if equally obedient to serve her 
command. 

So beautifully arrayed in their heav- 
enly white 

The image of goodness, purity and 
light. 

No conspiracy a foothold on her king- 
dom can gain 

Only the transformation of systems 
her reign can obtain. 

Races of men return to the earth 

And leave tshrouded in mystery their 
primitive birth. 

But constant through time from her 
supreme white, 

This goodness reflects her 'mpartial 
light. 

The laurel, the willow are beneatli 
her form 

Through summers frieght with sun- 
shine and winter's fierce storms. 

And peacefully at her majestical feet 

The North and the South in friend- 
ship meet. 

Cities are erected amid her domains, 

Her fertile valleys and upland plain 

140 



Agricalture and manufacture both 

have their place 
Amid the industries of the prosperous 

race. 
Rivers winding from her feet toward 

the bay. 
Carry the produce of the valley away, 
As swans over the water majestically 

float, 
The channel is dotted with many a 

boat, 
Advancing, increasing, improving, 

all the while, 
Yet at man's insignificance the moun- 
tain does smile. 
Far away on the hospital bed 
Where the sufferer toss, his aching 

head 
This goddess transmits her reflected 

light 
As if it were the sheen of an angel 

bright. 
Alike in the home her gentle beams 
Glide softly o'er the pillow where the 

infant dreams 
In her presence the thief laid his gold 
And the perjerer of falsehood told, 
Knowing each thought, she need not 

guess 
She sees the wishes we dare not 

confess. 
Eleven and twelve, fast flies the night 
The lovers would stay its hasty flight. 
Short are the hours of perfect bliss 

141 



And Mt. Hood is thoughtful of this. 
Towering toward heaven so proud, 
Peering above the gathering cloud, 
She encourages the moonbeams bright. 
By reflection from her snowy white, 
And at the close of the dreamy spell 
Never a secret was known to tell. 
She atches tne little nestling doe 
That has been hid by the cautious roe. 
Traces the mountain lions away 
Sees the eagle rend its prey, 
Standing there she never stirs 
Triumphant above the tallest hrs, 
She hears the coyote's dismal howl 
Mingled with the hooting owl, 
And never was known to expostulate 
When the panther 's^screams reverbrate. 
She watches the fish creep along the 

fresh water edges 
Depositing their eggs^in the sand on 

the ledges 
And bids them farewell when spawn- 
ing season is o'er 
When to the saltwater world they re- 
turn once more, 
The birds as they creep along on the 

fern, 
She gladly welcomes their yearly 

return. 
Guarding their morning-evening fare. 
Consisting of abundance of berries 

there, 
And when the little ones are reared 
and taught to fly 

142 



The mountain bids them a cherry 
good by. 

Sacred history would have hallowed 

her name 
And in heathen lauds have spread her 

fame. 
If on Mt. Hood so cold and bare 

Noah's arc had lauded there, 
Trinmphant on her summit sat 
instead the top of Mt. Ararat, 
And the raven and dove from this 

monntain so high 
O'er the unmarged hillocks and val> 

leys did fly. 
Until the dove triumphant, carried 

the spray 
As a token of the deluge passing away. 
Perhaps combustions are hidden with 

care, 
Compounded in natures labrafcory there 
Bat with patience and piety the 

mountain is blessed, 
A.nd for ages her wrath has been sup- 
pressed. 
Time alone the secret can probe, 
What is hidden underneath her white 

robe, 
By her eruptions tlie valley may be 

defaced. 
When the future in history has taken 

its place. 
Outward appearances is no guarantee, 
Of what inward inclinations and com- 
position be. 

143 



In reading her history the school hOT 

may hear 
Like Lisbon's earthquake or volcanic 

St. Pe er, 
Desolation spread over the land 
By the mountains revengful hand. 
The whiteness of her companions has 

marred. 
By the eruption of their principal 

guard. 

Like the parent whose lips with oaths 

are cursed 
Stabs the moral heart of the child 

he has nursed. 
She emblematic of an eternal night 
May be a teacher of darkness instead 

of light. 
Gulping forth her revengful wrath 
Spreading destruction throughout 

her path. 
Her illuminous flame toward heaven 

may point 

Amid thunders equal to Simian's 

roar. 
The beasts of the fields and the fowls 

of the air 
Are all in complete subjection there. 
Civilization in confidence rests, 
Beneath the mountain's snowy crest. 
Trusting, believing, returning to 

dust, 
Yet Mount Hood has not betrayed 

her trust. 

144 



A Woman's Invention. 

A womaD's invention, what could it 
be? 

This almost insoluble mystery. 

'Twas before the national lever touched 
McKinley's hand, 

And flnancial prosperity flooded the 
land. 

Before the destruction of the battle- 
ship Maine, 

Which wrought disaster to the king- 
dom of Spain. 

'Twas during Cleveland's second ad- 
ministration 

When Coxey's army started the notion 

That Erastus proved though of sleep 
he was fond, 

To the morning alarm it was wise to 
respond. 

His mother would vocalize just in 
this way : 

''Erastus, Oh ! Erastus, " she meekly 
would say. 

"Breakfast has been waiting I've 
called you before ; 

Now, if you must come, comejquickly, 
I'll call you no more. " 

With a moan and a groan he'd ejacu- 
late, then. 

Toss on his pillow for sleep once 
again. 

Soon his father would roar from the 
foot of of the stair, 

"Erastus, Erastus, your come out of 

145 



there. " 

With a "Yes I'am comiug" his 
dreams he'd complete 

Thougii fiercely liis parents their call 
they'd repeat 

Thus annoyed each morning too 
often to mention. 

His mother resolves on a final inven- 
tion. 

Her genius encouraged by a promising 
charm. 

From a dilapidated clock she extri- 
cated the alarm. 

Which she places, after setting with 
uncommon care. 

Where tlie spring vs^ould entangle and 
mat in his hair. 

Now wound, was awaiting for action 
complete 

Where Erastus is so sweetly on the 
pillow asleep. 

Morning dawns and her gentle sun- 
beams 

Flood the pillow with livid streams 

. A buzz and a wh'rl like an earth- 
quake shock 

And visions of destruction o'er Eras- 
tus flock. 

In fright with one bound he sprung 
on the floor. 

Since that morning his mother repeats 
lier call no more. 

The Pansy Blossom. 
Little pansy's welcome faces 

146 



Peeping through the foilage green 
Reflect each color of the rainbow 
And all its mingled shades are seen 
Purple velvet streaked with azure- 
blue, 
Ebony has marked the center, 
Blended with her chosen hue. 
Saffron turns to sunset golden 
As it fades into the white. 
All the colors of the prism 
Are transmitted to the sight. 
Brown and purple harmonize. 
Crimson shades into pink, 
While the little velvet centers 
Into darkening oranges sink. 
Eacli arrayed in chosen costume 
In common of the sunlight share. 
And the faces of the blossom 
Express contentment resting there. 
Who could dispute the little pansy, 
Being nature, s favorite child, 
For upon each passing stranger 
She bestows her ready smile. 
Nature hath in her provision 
Furnished all the bloasom needs, 
Until the bud has blossomed and 

withered 
And back to earth returns in seed. 
Gold can not buy befitting raiment 
Such as little pansies wear ; 
But mortals might in like content- 
ment 
With the pansy blossoms share. 



147 



^UG 21 1905 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 905 640 5 



